So This is Living
by MayMargaret
Summary: Holed up in a building is a young woman, alone and hardened by the desperate world. When a kindred spirit finds her, her belief that only the bad people are left is tested.
1. Chapter 1

When the oh-so familiar purring sound of the back-up generator stopped. That's when the chaos truly began. Before then, everyone was safe and secure, over-confident that they'd have enough to keep going, and enough security to keep whatever was out their locked out. But that's a problem when the security is electrically based.

Suddenly, out of a few seconds of 'what the hell's' and a few exchanged glances of a similar sentiment, we were screaming. Panicking. Frightened. For Evelyn, the apocalypse was late. But how it slammed down on her, hard. Colleagues began actually entertaining the notion of going out and finding their relatives, friends, anyone they knew outside. People ran, escaped alone, and were never seen again. The survivors, if you could call them that, became fewer and fewer, perhaps going from 100 to about 20. They found out in those weeks that cowardice was very similar to intelligence.

For a few more weeks, it all died down, and they began to function as a team, every so often going out in groups to find supplies, which was just food and meds. Evelyn and her group had everything they needed, working in a storage facility, and, compared to how others must have been living, they had it good. She and her fiancée had their own safe, a mattress, and a bedside clock operating on endless supply of batteries. Again, it was safe. Possibly too safe.

…

Daryl was so tired, it hurt. It hurt to walk, run, stop, think. It hurt to think of his group, out there, who was left. The savage attack on them still rung clear in his mind, the gunshots, the screams. Up until then he had to put up a pretence, for Beth. She'd lost her father, and the last thing she needed was a reminder. He'd vowed to stay strong for her, so she would be influenced to be likewise. But now, she was gone, and the only thing he had to stay strong for was keeping him running.

After long, long roads and vast numbers of trees, the exhaustion overcame him, and his crossbow collapsed from his hands, followed closely by him. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, on the road, the distant thought of how stupid that idea was sneered at when he quickly realised the world he was in. That's when he looked up, and the several faces looked down.

Those days passed by like a nightmare you had no control over, and he'd never wished for someone to save him before then. Violence and competition was all that filled the time, and he wondered whether they were just a normal group of middle aged guys, thinking they were on a drunk spree. He saw his father in a few of their eyes, watery and cynical, like the world owed them more than a couple of jars of moonshine. They didn't see walkers as things that were once people. They saw them as a ticket for looting, stealing anything that was of worth to anyone else but them, and the odd squirrel.

That changed then they happened upon a factory, dilapidated from the outside, but otherwise looking more secure than a lot of buildings. Something struck within him, and for a second, he wondered whether anyone in there was alive. Only an idiot would leave this place, surely.

…

As soon as the metallic snap sounded, Evelyn's eyes shot up. Her heart began hammering in her chest, causing the dizzying sickness of nerves she'd forgotten. In her time alone, fear began little more than a foreign word. Because she only had to deal with the dead. However, the mass of voices that broke in were a reminder that the world had made the living desperate.

Placing her book down next to her on her makeshift bed, which was actually a shelve in the archive unit, she pulled her weapon's back up from the shelf below, and began the painful process of unsheathing a katana from a dufflebag without making noise. She was unsuccessful, but thankfully, a man shouted, "Claimed!" at just the correct time. Sitting back up, Evelyn tucked her long auburn hair behind her ear, and waited. She checked the clock, embedded in a ceramic bears' stomache, next to her, and watched the silence second hand tick by.

…

Fuck this, Daryl cursed under his breath, finally giving in to the anger building up in him over the choir of snoring surrounding him. He stood up straight, aiming his crossbow at any body that stirred, before stepping silently from the garage. He'd been staring at a door for hours, and hadn't been curious or irate enough before then to explore it. He wouldn't let on that he was also a little cautious incase one of Joe's men thought he was trying to escape, something he was always planning on doing.

The door had a small black block next to it, similar to the one outside on the gates. That was surplus, as he assumed it was a scanning device, and he nudged the door open with the tip off the crossbow. The room behind it was dark, and vast. Like a warehouse. He wasn't sure how big it actually was, because shelves created a maze within it, but the ceiling was perhaps 30 feet above him, dark and practically invisible in the night. He wasn't too confident on finding anyone in here. Much less alive.

…

If her hearing wasn't so attuned, she wouldn't have picked up those footsteps, even on the concrete. She held her katana in her fist, even as she slept, and, as they became closer, the temptation to open her eyes became more and more alive. Would this person kill a living person, just sleeping? Would they kill something they thought was dead? She cursed that she didn't have a head wound to make it look like someone got here first.

A creaking sound alarmed her, terrifyingly close, and her eyes snapped open.


	2. Chapter 2

Right before her eyes was a black, savage looking crossbow, poised for use. The hands holding it were steady, still, and rough from use and hardship. They were hands that had seen the world, and fought it.

Her eyes followed the crossbow, and found a dark figure behind it, staring at her behind black hair. Beneath the strands, glued together by dirt and moisture, a pair of piercing eyes threatened to shoot.

Gradually, Evelyn shifted her arm beneath her to sit up, ever so slowly, keeping her eyes on the eyes of the intruder. They followed, as though they were in sync with the crossbow.

"Anyone else here?" A thick southern voice asked, sounding loud in the silence of the vast room. It was rough, but not as threatening as she expected. She shook her head. He barely moved for a moment, deciding what to do. Finally, he dropping the crossbow to his side, and she let out a sigh. "Thanks. For the rude awakening."

"By your reaction you knew this place was occupied."

The girl shuffled to sit on the edge of the shelve, her blade still in her hand. A flicker of moonlight caught it through the window, glinting in a way that he noticed. He didn't look too bothered by it, but his crossbow rattled in reminder. "What's your point?"

"You shouldn't have been sleeping with these guys around," he commented off handedly, scanning the room, the shelves on the opposite side. "Theyre not safe."

"Which means you aren't," she retorted, keeping her keen eyes on him. She watched how he moved, how his steps were almost silent with little effort. He scanned everything, as though he were an expert.

He turned his back to a metal shelf and grabbed the edge, hoisting himself up. He lay down, his head gently thudding on the surface. "Almost as good as the coffin; you don't snore do ya?"

Evelyn stared for a moment, so long that his eyes appeared behind his chest. "Right?"

She blinked for a moment, shaking her head. "So?"

"So what?" His head thumped back down.

"Are you dangerous? Like your group?"

She waited for a reply, gripping her weapon even harder. She waited for moment after moment, unwilling to rest until he replied. She was sure he'd fallen asleep in mustering up a reply, probably a lie of some sort.

"Not like those guys," a quiet voice said.

She thought about that for a moment, wondering whether to trust him. Of course she couldn't, he was a stranger. As he slept, he kept his weapon next to him, in his hand at the ready.

But so did she. How was she different?

...

Daybreak glared into the room, brighter than usual, creating a dull glow on the matt surfaces around her. She checked the time; 5 40am, and sat up groggily. The man from last night was still there, laying on his back, and Evelyn took the chance to get a proper look of him. Hopping off her bed, she remembered his warning over the group of men he was with, and landed with as much caution as possible. She checked the door, which was closed, and took her weapon with her to check on him.

The man was laying there lazily, sprawled in a way that was relaxed, but aware. His leg was propped up, bent at the knee, exactly how it was when she last checked, just before she fell asleep. His clothing was tattered, mostly black, and when she found his face, she was surprised to find he was kind of handsome. His skin was tan from exposure, his thin face, making him look perhaps mid thirties. His hair was in fact dark brown, falling clumsily over his eyes, which, to her mortification were open.

But they weren't on her, she noticed, as he scrambled for his crossbow, pushed her out of the way, and aimed it at the place behind her. She turned, finding a large group of middle aged men, eyeing her with looks of something twisted, perverted. They looked occasionally to their friend with suggestion and threat. "Well, what a find."

"I don't think that shit has a claim on this," another man said, while the oldest looking one at the front approached the man stood in front of Evelyn, defending her. "Don't you fucking dare, Joe," he warned calmly, and Evelyn wasn't stupid. She knew the look in those eyes, and the intent of the men. That didn't mean she was going to go down without a fight.

"Daryl, you know the rules, right son?" The elder man laid a daring hand on his shoulder, confident of the man's trust in him. "Go outside if you wont join in."

"Join in what, Joe?" The man, Daryl, asked, and the girl behind him couldn't take her eyes from him. Contrary to the fatherly hand, just being taken away from his shoulder, there was no sign of a relationship between them. Daryl eyed him with nothing more than hatred, and the others were loving it. "Come on, just kill him."

Jack looked behind to the group, egging him on like scared kids waiting for the school bully to give that one quiet kid a beating. They anticipated it, just for entertainment.

"What do you think, sweetheart?" Joe asked, turning to smile at her. "What do you want to do?"

He eyed her up and down, meeting her eyes last. "Yes..." he murmured.

The crossbow shifted before him, but suddenly, a flick-knife was in Joe's hand, and he threw his arm in the path of it, attempting to remove it from Daryl's hands. Evelyn watched, and felt her body move automatically as she watched what he was going to do, the knife flying to the archer's head, wielded by the scruffy looking man, red in the face and laughing mechanically. She buried the katana in his stomach, yanking it out, just in time for Daryl to adjust and shoot the man in the head. They both stared down at him as he fell, surprise the last emotion that imprinted on his face. The others were already running towards them, and Daryl was shooting. Evelyn ran forward, stabbing and thrashing the katana, ignoring the fact that she was killing people. Something started when Joe moved to kill that man, and she simply couldn't let that happen. He defended her; he might be useful to have around.

Within seconds it was over. Blood gathered on the floor, mixing from which ever man it came from, and She couldn't help but watch. Her knees felt week, but she noted that she couldn't feel a thing. She felt fine, she told herself.

"Come on," a voice said, taking her elbow. She didn't flinch, she just watched.

"Youre in shock," he added, and the girl turned her eyes to the man. He looked concerned, and when she noticed the blood splatter on his face, she was plummeted back. She rubbed her face, and stared at the smears on her fingers. As her eyes began to water, she met the light blue eyes of Daryl.

"You've never killed before, right?"

It seemed pathetic when he said it, pitiful. But he was right, she had never killed a person. Walker's didn't count now.

"Hmm."

The corners of his mouth twitched in sadness, and she looked down at herself. Her dark blue top was damp and bloody, fresh drops sinking into the fabric. Thankfully, her shorts were fine, but she felt the need for a shower.

"Who were they?" She asked him, and noticed he was grabbing the weapons from the bodies. She didn't feel bad for them at all. "They found me about a week ago."

"You mean-"

"Im not like them," he said, still trudging around, taking knifes, arrows, guns. "I...im sorry. I didn't know...they were like that." He straightened up, a larger crossbow thrown on his back. "If I knew..."

"Please...its okay."

He stopped, and he did so as though he was really looking at her. For the first time.

"So...got a name?"

For the first time in a long time, she smiled, by accident, and that became a laugh. Daryl watched her as though she were cracking up on him. "What?" He asked defensively.

As she began sobering up, she shook her head. "Names matter, still?"

When he didn't reply, and simply stared at her, she smiled kindly at him. "Eve. Nice to meet ya, Daryl."

He nodded curtly, and took the new found weapons over to one of the shelves to organise them.

"So, why did you stay with them?"

He turned his face to her. "Hmm?"

She returned to her bed to retrieve the bag of her own weapons, which were mostly knives and handguns she didn't know the name of, and landed it next to the new finds. "Why did you stay with them?" She needed something to distract her, and, while it was probably the least distracting subject at the time, it kept her mind busy. She was also intrigued by the man.

He shrugged. "They weren't the most friendly of people; kept me with 'em."

She chose not to push for more, and instead looked down.

"Been alone long?" he asked gently, and she finally pinpointed that look in his eyes. Shyness. Reservation. Small talk wasn't his forte, but it's all they had for the moment.

Eve smiled sadly his way, her eyes gliding from the guns on the surface to his eyes. "A little over a week. You?"

At first he was confused by her question, but she'd already decided there must have been another group before this. He wasnt far gone, not as much as she thought someone alone during the end of the world should or would be. "I just figured, you're too... I don't know... Human."

When he gave her a unidentifiable look with his piercing eyes, she almost elaborated. However, he began talking before she could figure out how to word it. "What are you most comfortable with, guns or knives?"

She stared at the now sizable number of options before her, and waved the bloody katana half heartedly, before looking at it. "Im thinking I need something new after this."

Without looking at her, he scanned for a viable replacement, and handed her a slightly larger one. Its hilt was green and tattered with fabric covering it. "How about this?" She stared at it for a moment, and then looking to her trusty old blade. She didn't think she could part with it, until she watched the streams of fresh blood dribble over her hands. She exchanged it straight away, and nodded in thanks.

...

Why he trusted her so easily was a question that begged his attention for the rest of the day, and one he wouldn't entertain until he was nearing sleep. The day passed without incident; after the weapons were sorted, she showed him round the building, apparently a former storage unit, and allowed him to take whatever he needed for comfort; cushions, small items of furniture, nothing useful beyond making a person in denial comfortable that life wasn't so bad. She didn't talk much, neither did he. But what really bothered him was how she could trust him, at all. He'd been with Joe's men, ate with them, undured them, fought with them, but on the surface he was no different. He even dressed similar.

How could a girl trust him after bringing those monsters in with him was something he couldn't comprehend.


	3. Chapter 3

The silence was comfortable, and, for once, she didn't feel the pressure to start a conversation. He looked like he preferred the quiet, not because he needed to think, but because the outside world was too messy and loud without mindless chatter on the inside. She hated that, and no one ever seemed to understand.

She didn't exactly feel like talking, anyway. Only an hour ago they'd burnt the corpses of the men who'd captured him, and since then she'd been wondering how that had happened. He seemed too strong, too independent, too stubborn to submit so easily. And yet there he was, relief plain on his face as the fire burnt them, singed their skin and peeled down to the bare gristle. Similar to now, sat on the floor, leaning his back against the frame of the shelving unit. They'd moved away from the minor battle site, and he looked like he hadn't relaxed in weeks.

Would it be rude to ask him what happened? she wondered to herself, but she was too private herself to push into someone else's bubble. As she watched the fire dance one the face of the man across from her, she wondered what made her trust him so much. Was it the lonely look about him, the way something seemed to lift from him as the men burnt to ash, or was it that she wasn't so used to being in the company of someone so together, while obviously so broken? It was all so strange, how she'd watched so many die, and yet she was prepared to stick with this man, someone she'd only known a day.

"You didn't answer the question," she reminded him gently, nudging away her nervousness. He looked up instantly, and she wondered whether the silence was beginning to itch at his skin as well. "About your group-"

"They're gone."

When Eve reminded him of the question, he answered instantly because the question was running around his mind on a regular basis. He also thought that maybe she heard his silent wishes for her to talk, to make an effort to get to know his past, so they could build up a trust that would be justified in his head. So they could work together. Whether she wanted that, he wasn't sure, but she hadn't thrown him out yet.

"What happened?" She asked gently, perhaps a little too long a pause for simply conversational chatter. He returned his eyes back to the dancing flames, nudging a stray piece of kindle back in. "Ambushed... Desperate people."

...

Oh, she was aware of those kinds of people, having suffered the consequences of them. But they were never ambushed; they died in front of her, or they were killed on a run and a traumatised member of their group had to deliver the news.

"Yeah," was all she could say, feeling the lump in her throat. They'd never expanded on people; they were mostly people she was close too, and had lives with before it all began. They were her only link to the times before, and the after effects had left her more cynical and just a ghost of her former self. She was a survivor now, not a friend, or a fiancée, or a daughter. That was all gone.

"My group encountered a man once," she began, and it was like telling an old war story. "There were 6 of them, and 7 of us. They were on a run, and apparently they needed our meds. Could've asked but no...we lost 5 that day. 5 in the space of 1 minute, they said."

As Daryl listened, he switched from leaning back to pushing himself forward and leaning his elbows on his bent knees. "The way they described the man seemed a little...theatrical to me."

"How?" he asked, his thick southern accent contrasting with her own watered down version of it, being ages since she'd spoken so much, and she thought to the image of the man that had concocted over time. "An eyepatch, tall, thin-"

"The Governer," he murmured, hatred filling his voice. She realised instantly.

"It was him," she stated gently, and she watched his eyes narrow in distant memory.

All too quickly, he stood, and, despite her expectation of him going to bed, he stalked to the weapons shelf down the room. Eve watched, but the fire light didn't stretch that far. By the sounds emanating, he'd grabbed something heavy, and, a few rattles later, he returned, a crossbow in his hand. It wasn't the one he'd retrieved from the dead body of the other archer...it was smaller.

"See how this suits ya," he said, standing over her and holding his familiar crossbow out in her direction. She stared at it, confused and a little dumbfounded. "S-sorry?"

Instead of elaborating, he simply shook it slightly in answer. She stood in front of him, taking the crossbow with shaky hands. It rattled gently within them, but he eyed her with a hint of pleasure when she shifted it to hold it properly. Like she had done before, which wasn't the case. With that she felt a pang of something she could only identify as good, and felt confident. Confident, and touched.

"You're...giving me this?"

He looked at her from beneath his hair, which stirred another emotion, passing too quickly to identify it. He was moving too soon, and went back down, only to return with the larger, mother version of his old one. "Been eyeing this one up for days," he commented passively. He threw it over to rest on his shoulder, imitating the stance he'd adopted before Jack, seeing how it felt. After a few altercations, he shot the dark, and they heard it bury itself into something solid.

"We'll practice tomorrow," he said, placing his new weapon on the shelf before hopping onto it, concealing himself in the dark. Eve looked down at the gift, and felt such gratitude that it hurt. A tear fell, and she smiled. She'd not considered him capable of giving something so precious up so easily, not even to a loved one.


	4. Chapter 4

The gentle dawn of sunlight awoke Eve in a calm reminder that the morning was, inevitably, going to be better than the one yesterday. For once, she didn't grab her katana straight away, and instead headed for the bathroom; a small room which was once a safe, a small tub on top of a card table of water she would refresh when needed, next to some comforts looted from the local store. The idea of stewing in her own filth was repulsive anyway, never mind another's'. The blood soaked shirt had been almost forgotten yesterday, but now, she wanted to look presentable. After washing, she dressed in a pair of denim cut offs and a deep purple tank top, adjusting the pendant at the neckline. The angel wings often made her think that her parents had a premonition, and bought it for her for her 24th birthday; her last before it happened. She regarded herself in the hanging mirror, possibly for the first time in weeks. In that time, her dress sense had become one of convenience, rather than maintaining the gothic one she'd had in life. Her wild curly hair had grown to hair way down her back, and her cheekbones had become more prominent with heat and a modern hunter-gather diet, making her deep green eyes and lips look bigger. In life, she'd been possibly a little vain; now that didn't matter, she realised the apocalypse had done some positive improvements to her appearance.

The angel wings caught the light from hell knows where, and reminded her that time was short.

"Shit, you're up?" Were the first words that greeted her on her return to the storage warehouse, and she found Daryl rubbing the sleep away from his eyes. "Heard no damn alarm," he complained under his breathe. Eve contained the urge to smile.

"I could set it if you liked," she answered sarcastically, going to her bed, adjacent to his, to check the time. "You know, meetings to get to, dinner dates..."

"Fucking dinner dates," he grumbled, pushing himself up on his elbows. He stayed like that for a moment, looking at her. She smiled a small smile in question.

"Aint no need for time keeping, chick," he proclaimed, finally shifting off the bed, and landing on his feet. "Dusk and dawn, night and day. That's all that's important."

"Yes, well, time matters to me."

He shook his head, grabbing his crossbow. "Ill ask you why when I can think. In the meantime," he said, and walked off in awkward answer. Eve was just thankful he was going outside.

...

When he returned, an hour later, by which time she'd had some cereal, he seemed much more awake, and she figured he'd encountered some walkers while out there.

"So, why does it matter?"

She looked up from her book, and looked to the side to find her answer. "Because life is short enough without loosing track. I wanna know how long I've done, and how long I've got left."

He sniffed in derision, and threw his crossbow on the bed. "Sounds like a prison sentence."

"Sometimes," she mused quietly, and she knew he heard; she gathered he was a hunter, a tracker. Part of the outdoors, and attuned. She wondered whether that carried through from his life before. His gruff southern voice clued her in, and his proficiency with weapons sometimes impressed her. Even a few of her Call of Duty addicted colleagues would have a time not being envious. Smiling to herself in thought, she placed her book down, and hopped down.

"So, I was meaning to ask, why did you...give me this?" She held up the smaller crossbow in her left hand, looking at him with question and gratitude the best she could. She half expected a confused look followed by either a smart, sarcastic remark, loss of memory, or just a plain _why do you think _glance. But he took his own, threw it over his back as he turned, and looked at her over his shoulder. "Dangerous people need a little more distance than a blade." He stalked off, and she followed, grabbing a hoodie on the way out despite the warmer climate. She wondered how he survived in the layers he wore before, but now, she found he'd removed the biker jacket, and was now just wearing a dark blue checkered shirt, covered by the leather vest, baring large angel wings on the back. It suited him in a way that clashed; a fallen angel, dark and pensive, closed off. Her hands flew to take her pendant in her nimble fingers, and she stifled a surprised laugh.

...

Target practice was...interesting, to Daryl. The girl suggested the roof to use, and led him to it, and its vast size made it more than suitable. There was a large section in the middle, fenced off, and therefore keeping the walkers who'd worked ladders out outside, leaving them to stick their rotted fingers through the holes. The opening came through that, so there was no unnecessary danger. Just good clean shooting.

The interesting part came to teaching her how to hold the gun, which involved hands adjusting the way the frame resting on her shoulder, and he found that it was difficult to keep from touching her. He felt distracted by it all.

He recalled how it was with Beth, teaching her to hunt, and how she would childishly giggle when she hit a walker from a few feet away. He felt pride, but the pride of a friend of her fathers, like he was teaching his niece. He would praise her to not hurt her feelings. With Eve, it was like he wanted to teach her, because she wanted, and needed, to learn. He was genuinely impressed by her aim, her shots, most of which were headshots. It became real to him that she'd had to learn, she had been on her own. Beth was never alone a day in her life. Eve was independent.

Did she need him? He wondered. _Of course she doesn't_, he taunted, but it was his brother's voice, the gravelly rasp distinct and suggestive. _Better be askin' why you want her around, little brother. _

It had been a long time since Merle's memory taunted him that way.

...

As Eve's confidence increased, Daryl backed away just a little further, leaving her to it, and he became more of a spectator than a tutor. Every so often he would point to which one to aim for, and of course, always aim for the head. Some arrows got through the eyes, the mouth, a few up the nose and most square in the middle of the forehead. He would always insist on going ahead to collect the arrows, and the cycle began again.

She didn't know how much time they'd spent out there, but, the longer it went on, the more she forgot about the time passing, and just gave herself to the moment, actually enjoying something. Every so often she would catch Daryl looking at her with a tiny smile on his lips, followed by another nickname for a walker. Ranging from long dead celebrities to how they dressed. Hilarious to down right disturbing.

As the sky began to turn a shade of light pink, Eve decided to sigh and call it a day, and as soon as she relaxed her arm, had a shooting ache run down her back. She winced and rolled the shoulder into normality, relieving it. Daryl went forward and held the hatch open for her, and he followed. In silence, they returned to the familiarity of the storage warehouse, where everything had been thrown into a husky blue hue.

"Later than I thought," she remarked, placing the gift down on the shelf, and stared at her welcome bed. Tiredness hung over her in waiting for a moment, before shrouding her comfortably. Yawning, she stretched her arms, and saw that Daryl had the same idea. Kicking his boots off, he was already on his, and mumbled 'night', throwing himself back in exhaustion. Soon enough, she was sleeping.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, a walker got in. Upon investigation, it turned out that it had managed to wear at the wire fence on the roof with some friends, and the smart ass got through the hatch. Luckily, Daryl was up early and patrolling, because he couldn't sleep. The dream he had made sure of that. It was Merle, taunting him like he had that day in the woods by the Green's farm, but this time, he wore the faces of the men he'd been traipsing around with a week ago. Only their voices were the same, and their stumps were concealed in a metal bandage. Eve was in front of him, floating away from him, towards the group of Merles. When he grasped to save her, she was water around his hands.

That was how he found the corpse wondering about in the stairwell between the safes and the above offices, like it was nobody's business. It caught him off guard, and he returned straight to Eve. Checking the bear clock, it was 4:20. Even she had the decency to be asleep. He swore at himself, and sat on his bed, reluctant to fall asleep. Instead, he sat and began packing.

...

Eve awoke to find Daryl missing, but expected it. He was either going through whatever morning ritual he had, hunting, or killing. That was when she decided to find the make shift bathroom, and found a trail of browning blood, leading towards the stairs.

She found Daryl on the roof, watching a fire, far in the corner of the newly established training grounds. The dead tried grasping a piece of him or his clothing, but he was unfazed. He just stood, his arms pocketed, and he was unarmed. His crossbow was tossed to the side.

"How'd it get in?" She asked, making her way towards him, wrapping her hoodie around her body. The warmth of the fire made the action surplus, however. She understood now the absence of his leather jacket, leaving just the checked blue shirt underneath. She liked the look, she realised.

"Gnawed at the gate, stupid bastard forgot he needed his teeth. Wore them down in the process."

She just nodded in reply, and noticed his reinforced reservation. Of course, he'd thought he had found somewhere safe. It was, but now that was being compromised.

"Its fixed now, though," she offered, noticing the mismatched metal rod weaved into the hole. It was pretty low down, so it must have crawled through. Daryl, despite responding by checking it, didn't look confident. He eyed it as though he distrusted it, like it wasn't enough. Eve wanted to offer more support, but it would only feel like babbling nonsense to make him feel less guilty.

"Maybe its a sign...I need a walk anyway."

He shot a look her way. "No."

She raised her eyebrows. Eve hated being told what to do. "Im sorry?"

"Incase you've been living like a hermit for a couple years-"

"I know the dangers, Daryl," she sighed, "don't patronise me."

He threw her a look, and closed the space between them. She felt the tension build up between the few inches he'd left.

"If you're so damn smart," he said quietly, "Why risk it?" He raised his arm to his side, pointing to the chaos behind the gates. "Why?"

Eve unfolded her arms, resting them to her sides. She never took her eyes from his once. "Because if I stay in this place for too long, I feel myself lose it. This place...its too full of...stuff. Stuff that isn't here now."

Her words didn't quite make sense to her own ears, but somehow, Daryl seemed to buy it. He hesitated, but lowered his hand. Backing a few feet away, he began pacing, chewing his non-existent nails.

"Look, Daryl, this," she began, motioning to the tear in the fence, "wont stop happening. Its weakened it, and if that guy managed to get through, imagine what happens next. We can't stay here forever, despite what I did believe."

When he didn't respond, she continued. "I need practice...ive been holed up in here alone for 2 weeks now, in which time ive not had to leave this place. Please...just an hour."

He stopped eventually, and finally looked at her. He didn't meet her eyes, however, and instead found themselves on what was glinting around her neck. He didn't comment.

"We need to take care of the weak spots. Fences, back at the prison-"

He cut himself off, probably realising he was saying too much. That would be questioned after the walk.

"We need beams," he finally said. Then he looked to the hatch. "If we jam that while we're out, it should be ok."

...

Within minutes, they locked the hatch with a padlock from the inside and used a ladder to place a pretty strong force, blocking anything from getting in or out. Grabbing only a handful of weapons and a rucksack of water, they were out of the storage unit. Lifting the shutter door to the garage, Eve's expectations were dashed. It wasn't that bad at all. The only dense spot was 50 yards away, a pet store, which was burned and dilapidated and spitting out walkers from the main window frame. They seemed too distracted to notice, so they both ran with expertly silence and fast steps to the small opening in the trees. Hiding behind the nearest, Daryl made sure to confirm nothing was following, while Eve kept her eye on the woods. It was empty, seemingly.

As they began walking, the distant birdsong and rustling of the leaves became the only sound, and it began to feel awkward.

"The prison," Daryl offered finally, "was were my group and I based ourselves. We stayed there for over a year, growing crops and...making a new life for ourselves. We got comfortable, and we learned our lesson."

Eve realised straight away. "The Governor. He wanted the prison."

He didn't nod, but he was the kind to confirm by leaving the pregnant silence to hang for a while; not because he wanted to be quizzed, but because it hurt to say it, make it real.

"What were your people like?"

Daryl looked from the ground to the distance, his hand gripping the handle of the crossbow tightly. "All good people. All survivors."

Eve frowned at the words, remembering what he'd said a couple of nights before.

"How can you be sure they're all gone?"

...

Her question rang alarm bells in his ears, as though the conversation was becoming too personal. He was letting that happen...hell, he'd started the damn thing. But it wasn't that. He couldn't let that question become a real thought; he'd said goodbye now, and that was it. The door was closed, and he wasn't willing to open it again just to find the empty eyes of his former comrades. He shook his head. "If you'd seen it..."

"You survived, right?"

He scoffed at her question, and earned a knowing smile from her. She'd seen him, monitored him, seen how he killed. He wasn't even sure he could die anymore. He just put others around him in danger, jinxed their luck.

"How about your people...your...stuff?"

He found that she responded to questions much in the same way that he did; shyness and reservation. But she wasn't shy enough to not meet his eyes full on, and they told him all he needed to know. Looking away, she began talking. "We all got too comfortable, like you said. When the back up power ran out, people panicked and went in search of loved ones before they knew how to defend themselves. Never saw them again, naturally, and that's when we realised. We needed to survive, not bury our heads in the sand. That's when we got cocky."

Both realised they'd stopped walking, and looked at each other for a few moments.

"What happened 2 weeks ago?" he asked cautiously. For this, she stared in the distance, but he could see the raw dryness in her eyes.

"We were out on a run. We always had a minimum of four in our groups, and that's all that was left. Two were taken down by walkers...it was just me and Sam. We found a shack in the woods, but he insisted on going in case it wasn't safe. Had me climb up a tree and keep watch."

...

The way he ordered her to stay outside was much like how Daryl had told her to remain in the building, but there was no room for discussion with Sam. She lifted herself up and climbed to about 7 foot into the tree nearby, keeping her walkie talkie on her lap as she rested her feet up, stabilising herself with a gun in her hand. A car rolled up, a mass of walkers on its tail, and she was lost. She didn't know the 2 scrawny men getting out of the car, and if she shot them, it could attract the dead. If she left them, they would be going in to the shack to find her fiancée. What would they do to him?

"Sam," she whispered into the walkie talkie, and he responded with a shush. She heard some rummaging, and a distant bang just as the men shoved the door open before her eyes.

There was no chatter, just silence for a few moments, and then the door slammed. The commotion after that left her crying into her hand, too frightened to make any noise.

They exited with his body, carrying him lengthways between them. Dropping him into the back, they drove away, the walkers following them on their way out. Eve dropped from the tree, and followed the truck. She followed it 14 miles, and lost it.

All she said then was, "He was killed. All I did was listen." She found the archer's eyes then, narrow and intent on hearing what she had to say.

Sighing, she went to wipe away her non existent tears, and chose to continue. He followed close by, catching up and returned to her side. He didn't push her for information, and that's what she liked about him. He respected her privacy.

Up ahead was another clearing, and they came upon a train track.

"I was following this with the group," Daryl explained, and recalled how they'd given up on the endeavour just before finding Eve. "There were signs," he said, crouching down to look closer at it. "For a sanctuary."

"Terminus?" Eve asked, although she new the answer. She recalled the blind joy in her friends' faces when they'd returned with news of survivors, and disappeared in the night when she'd argued against their desire to leave and find others. Another group lost.

Daryl looked up at her over his shoulder. "Yeah, you know it?"

"Some of our people went to find it, I don't know what happened to them." The small amount of hope dwindled in his eyes as she spoke.

"I doubt Rick would be fool enough to trust those signs, anyway," he murmured to himself. But Eve had another idea. Whoever this Rick was, Daryl thought of him as smart. "Was Rick your...I don't know...leader?"

Daryl nodded from his spot on the track.

"What if he did follow it? By the looks of things, this is the only indication of a meeting point for miles...and there's a few of those signs dotted around as far out as 30 miles."

"I cant risk a dead lead," Daryl excused, but the repressed pacing told her he was having trouble deciding.

She stepped up onto the track, grabbing the handle of the crossbow on her shoulder. She checked her belt for a sufficient number of knives and switchblades, and went behind the man to open the bag to check for water. Nodding to herself, she placed herself in from of him.

"Yes we can."


	6. Chapter 6

Daryl did a double take on himself. What in the world was she thinking?

"Hey!" he shouted, because she was already stalking off before him. "What the hell!"

Eve turned on the spot, her eyes filled with question and oblivious delight. Was the girl crazy, and she'd just been acting? It scared him a little, the thought of her cracking up on him. "What it is that's stopping you, Daryl?"

He scoffed in shock. "W-whats stopping me?"

"Yes."

"How does half a million walkers tickle ya?! I go, fine, but you ain't following!" He even waited, routed to the spot as he threw his arms about, making his point and referencing the direction she was heading; sure to be a hot spot. "I aint even having this discussion," he murmured, and that's when he heard her come back to him. No, her steps were too heavy for that.

When he looked up at her beneath his hair, she looked pissed.

"Let me tell you this, Archer. You are not leaving me, much like im not leaving you. I don't know what happened to you to make you think every life lost is your fault, but im making this choice. You see it, right? You cant move on until you know what happened to them. You think you can just close the door on them and think that makes them dead? You do that, you'll go through the rest of this life constantly hoping they turn up in the next shelter you find. The worst that happens is we find no survivors, and, if theyre any bit as stubborn and hot headed as you are, that's not going to be the case."

...

It felt good to finally have it all out, to tell Daryl how she truly saw his situation. He looked like he needed a little shaking up. When she stopped, she couldn't tell whether he was impressed, or the anger was loading like bullets in a gun.

"Come on. We cant just stay in that place, letting the question hang over us. Its the only way we'll move on."

He never took his eyes away once, brown strands casting shadows over the blue and catching the sunlight subtly. He was just a man, a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. It wasn't forced upon him; he'd taken it out of a sense of duty.

Without saying a word, he adjusted the bag on his shoulder, the crossbow on the other, and turned around. He was heading in the wrong direction.

"I cant risk your life for theirs. Im sorry."

Tears welled up in Eve's eyes, and she questioned why. Something about how the man said it hurt her; he was saving her, wasn't he? Why should she be sad?

Because it was at the cost of his people. And that killed him; it was thick in his voice.

...

Something had changed in the building then, like an atmosphere had settled, more empty, and yet thicker at the same time. Before long, it was dusk, and then it was dawn.

She found herself avoiding him in the next few hours, because when they were in close proximity, she was all too aware of the man, the guilt he must be enduring, the wall building itself between them. Like it had never started falling down, bit by bit.

It continued like that for another week; the only time they'd be in the same room would be at night, when she'd return from practice she didn't need and he'd been hunting. It was amazing how much you could stay out of someone's way. It was as though she was alone again, and the warehouse had become his base. It was like having a squatter.

It wasn't like Eve didn't want to talk to him, or even be near him. On the contrary, she wanted to just hear him say something her way so much that it made the nerves too much, and she was frightened of saying the wrong thing. This way, nothing could be said, no one could be offended, no one could be hurt. That was what she told herself, when she woke up and when she dosed back off again.

Time fell away from them, but it dragged with agonising patience.

...

Every time he saw her, he felt sick. Sick that he wasn't _more. _Sick that he was saving her over potentially saving his family. Sick that when she lectured him, everything rang true in his mind. Sick that all he could think of was that she must stay safe. Sick that she was more driven to save them, being stronger than he was, when all he could think of was how she'd become more important, when she probably didn't even need protecting. He knew that, he knew that she was self sufficient, but she was a priority. He realised every time he closed his eyes.

He couldn't stand to talk to her, in case he fell apart there and then.

What had happened to him, to make him like this? So...weak? What made him so susceptible to guilt, to what she said, to her as a person? Because her argument nearly pushed him into actually considering leaving. With the water, with her. But that frightened him like a child, and he didn't take nicely to fear. People died when he was scared. Things were lost when his eye was off the ball.

What if she was right? What if he needed closure on Rick, Glenn, and everyone else? He needed to move on, and that's why he had to consider her offer.

...

_"_Eve."

The girl's eyes drifted open sleepily, to find the figure of a man standing over her. "Daryl?" She asked warily, her voice coming out quieter than expected. Her heart was racing.

The unexpected visitor straightened back up.

"Hello," she said, voice timid, relieved that they seemed to be communicating again. But he'd not spoken a word yet since waking her. He just nodded, meeting her eyes with that undecipherable emotion in his. He was here with a purpose.

"Im going to find Terminus," he finally announced. "If you're coming, better get moving."

She stared at him for a long moment while she processed the words.

"Why the change of heart?"

Daryl backed away slowly into the dim light; he was all ready to go, a bag on his back and armed. The silhouette of his head left only his piercing eyes as detail; he was determined, prepared, with no ounce of fear in them.

The anger and frustration melted away from Eve as she looked at him, replaced only with something heavy and fluttering in her chest, and utter trust in the man.

She nodded, struggling to keep the smile from her lips as she felt the confidence between them grow. "Okay."


	7. Chapter 7

The journey between the unit and trees was just as uneventful as the last time, until they hit the woods.

Two walkers approached Eve, one after the other; and man leading a woman to the bait. The woman was close behind. Eve aimed the crossbow, and pulled the trigger; two birds, one arrow.

Daryl watched close by while taking care of a small group with just a knife, and when the situation was controlled he examined the two corpses on the floor, and the arrow that impaled them together.

"Nice," he praised in his low-key way, yanking the arrow out with a stomach-churning sound effect. He wiped it on the leaves, and handed it back. "Been practicing, huh?"

The girl nodded, feeling a little proud and perhaps a little awkward when he referenced their rough patch, if you could call it that. She liked that he'd noticed she was a little more self reliant than before.

...

Nightfall approached, and the miles they'd covered could be felt in her feet, her legs, her back. The pair began gathering sticks and dry leaves for a fire, and the abundance could be owed to the fact that it hadn't rained in weeks. They were ready in minutes. They based themselves in between two trees, perhaps 5 feet between them, and Eve sat and leaned back. Daryl took the one adjacent.

The atmosphere felt thicker when it was quiet, with just the cracking of the flames between them to keep them company.

"Daryl?"

His head didn't move, and when she looked over the flames, she found he'd been looking at her for some time.

"Why did you let Joe and his men take you so easily?"

The question was daring, she was aware of that. But she needed to fill the silence with something, and it had been bugging her for a while. Since she'd met him, in fact.

"They had guns aimed at me; I aint fool enough to argue." He returned his eyes to the flames, scratching the side of his head.

"So why didn't you leave?"

"You ask a lot of questions," he shot back. But it wasn't rude, it was defensive, and Eve felt guilty in an instant. "Sorry; just figured I'd get to know what kind of man I'm alone with."

The silence fell again for a moment, and just when she thought he'd not speak again, he did.

"I wasn't exactly strong enough at the time."

Eve looked up. "What happened?"

Daryl took a stick and began poking the fire; ash spit out at him, sparks flying after his hand as he provoked it like a jelly fish. "Lost someone. Spent a couple' days looking for her."

Eve felt her eyes tighten, and felt angry at herself for feeling what she could only identify as the familiar, but long since experienced, stab of jealousy. She pushed it away, and made a conscious effort to not let it leak into her voice. "And then they found you?"

"Yeah. The girl," he said, "was the daughter of a man who got killed. A...friend of mine. She was too weak for this world."

Eve nodded, agreeing with what he was implicating. "For some people, im glad theyre gone. Out of it all. Free of it."

"Like Sam?"

Eve's heart sank as Sam's name was mentioned, but then she remembered she'd told Daryl about him when they were last in the woods. Nodding, she felt the guilt of her next words before they came out. "Before this, he was..." What was the word? She leaned on her folded up knees as she searched the fire for inspiration. "Enigmatic. He wore his heart on his sleeve, unless it made him look weak. He was attentive, kind...but then when it happened, he lost all that. Eventually, he was stripped to the bare minimum, and lost all that was him. Sometimes, I wish he'd died sooner. Just so I could say he died as Sam. Not as a survivor of some end of the world shit."

"Who was he to you?"

She met his eyes. "My fiancée, before. Afterwards, we became strangers. All we spoke about was strategy and supplies."

Daryl laughed, but it wasn't sincere. It was humourless, ironic. A laugh that cursed the world. "Some people aren't meant for all this."

Eve thought for a moment. "But you are. I mean, I cant really imagine you any different before."

He smiled then, flames dancing in his remorseful eyes. "Yeah, maybe not. Always been an outdoors kind of a guy."

She felt a grin spread on her face for a moment, and then it faded. It was sad, to think of him like that, as though he was prepared for it. Like everyone else had a past life to thing back on, better times. Something about Daryl whispered that he'd had it rough for a long, long time.

"And that's why you'll survive. Daryl; zombie annihilator."

A sudden burst of laughter escaped from him then, and it was contagious. Before Eve even knew why, she was keeling over in fits along with him. It was one of those totally unexpected moments, one where you forget the world apart from the company your keeping. And that company was laughing like he'd never known it.

"Sorry, kinda sounds ridiculous like that."

"How about," he said, holding his hands out and parting them as he titled himself, "Daryl _Dixon; _Zombie Annihilator."

"Daryl _Dixon? _I was starting to think last names were a thing of last year."

He leaned back on the tree, a smile still lingering on his lips. "Nah, theyre still in. So, you know mine. Shoot."

Eve blushed suddenly; she'd always hated her last name. "Nah. You don't need to know."

"Why not?" he asked quietly, holding a stick in his hand as it leaned on his propped up knee nonchalantly. He was chipping the end with his nail. "What can be so bad about it?"

She sighed. "Its Savage."

He smiled. "Fine, if you're not gonna-"

"No, I mean that's it. Evelyn Savage. Kind of a appropriate now, right?"

The man let his head fall back, and looked to the sky in thought. He smiled a small smile. "Daryl Dixon and Eve Savage; Apocalyptic Winners."

"The last ones standing," she added, laughing along with him again. "Ill drink to that, if we had some," he professed regretfully, and then he met her eyes slowly, in one of those moments where one minute youre in a moment of humour and seriouslessness, and snapped into another of something you don't quite yet have the words for. She felt it, but she couldn't comprehend it just yet.

"Come on, long day tomorrow."

As if on queue, the girl yawned, and stretched her aching limbs in front of her like a cat. "Fine. Wake me in 4 to take cover."

"Eve-"

"Its only fair, Mr Dixon," She retorted stubbornly, smiling his way, which he met with a shake of the head in defeat. "Fine." He grabbed the bag next to him, and when she realised she was thirsty, made her way over to his side. He began rummaging through the bag as she heard the bottle contents slosh against other objects. She plucked out one of the water bottles around his arm.

"What're you looking-"

He lifted his hand out, and in it was a ceramic bear, small and plain white in contrast to his rough hands. Something about how they clashed with the object made the gesture so poignant, she'd not realised he'd already placed it on the ground between them. He avoided her eyes for a moment with effort, but she waited until he gathered up the courage. Finally, he found them, and the unattainable shyness within them made her heart skip.

"Thankyou," Eve whispered, and her voice caught in her throat. She looked down to the clock, checking the time through watery eyes. "11 17." She rested her head back on Daryl's tree. "Make sure you don't let me oversleep." She placed the water bottle in the small space between them, forgetting her thirst.

The archer replied with silence, but she felt his arm shuffle next to hers, and the rattle of the crossbow settle on his lap. "Goodnight," he uttered softly, but she was already asleep. Her last sensation was the feel of her head leaning on something, too warm and cosy to bother with pulling away.


	8. Chapter 8

"Daryl! Up there!" Eve pointed to the sign up ahead, and they continued to follow the track. She seemed so energetic, so eager to find the people who were his family, but strangers to her. It was distracting to think of her, and not the task in hand, but as she glanced behind every so often to smile encouragingly at him, he felt his head float.

Keep focused, asshole, Daryl cursed to himself silently, and kept his eyes on the track so he didn't trip and look an idiot. The last thing he needed was her helping him hop along, keeping them both behind on schedule.

Schedule, he sneered, he was beginning to sound like her with time and dinner dates and shit. He didn't understand her fascination with time. But still, hed taken the trouble and the risk of being caught packing her clock, to which she was oddly attached, despite his possibly cynical outlook. Time didn't matter, so why did she love it so much?

He came to the realisation that he didn't have to understand it; just keep her happy.

"Terminus; sanctuary," he read out loud as Eve was behind him unpacking the water bottles. She handed him from behind and he took it. "Follow the track," she read behind him. "Like we're not doing that already. Have they considered that maybe they might attract the wrong kind of people?"

"That's what guns are for," Daryl retorted, taking the bottle away from his lips before he drained the bottle.

"Not really; desperate people can be good actors."

He turned to look at her, and then away when she questioned the meaning behind it with her eyes. It was one of those moments when she theorised something, something that made him think whether it was just a theory, or more had happened to her than she truly let on. He'd known it from experience, that desperate people take desperate measures, but was that the case with her?

"Come on," he murmured, passing the bottle back to Eve. "We should be getting on."

30 minutes later, they found another of the signs. Then another, and another. The final one they came across happened just before nightfall, and they found themselves back in the woods to set up camp.

Fire crackling again, just like the night before, Daryl snuck a glance at the girl every so often. He tried to guess what she was thinking, tried to get the image out of his head of the Merles taking her away from him, tried to escape the fact that his time with just him and the beautiful girl was about to be cut short, and others would be there. There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted to find them, alive and well, and continue into the world with them behind him. But there was a niggling thought in his mind; would Rick let her stay? Of course he would. But what if they got to Terminus? What if he lost her? The loss of Beth hadn't killed him, but the loss of Eve might. As she sat, staring up at the naked moonlight and it looked down on her, he couldn't help but feel an ache in his chest that this might be their last few hours together.

What if they were a curse, together? Rick, Daryl, Glenn, Maggie, and the others? What if they somehow thrust their bad luck on her?

"Daryl," Eve suddenly whispered. "are you thinking again?"

The surprise of her voice and the shock of being caught staring made him smirk, and he took his eyes away for a fraction of a second. "Make my head hurt, right?"

She laughed, and met his eyes. "What're you worrying about?"

He knew he had to lie, because he didn't want to worry her. He didn't want to scare her away. But before he said a word, she was speaking again. "If youre worried about Terminus, don't be. As I said, if they're anything as stubborn as you are, they'll be fine."

"Its not that," Daryl admitted. "Just anxious..." He finished off the statement with a long look between them, until her mouth formed a little 'o', and transformed into a smile. "Worst case scenario, one of us dies. If so, your group will find their way back to the unit, and all will be as well as it can be."

"'Worst case scenario, one of us dies'?" He repeated back to her, a little angry that she sounded so 'matter of fact' about it. "You really think i'll let that happen?"

"No," she quickly said. "I've long since thought you to be indestructible."

"And what about you?" he shot back, heat building up in his neck and face. "Don't you care?"

Concern and understanding began building up in her green eyes, only now they were orange with firelight. "Of course I do. I'm...im just trying to prepare myself, should anything happen. Humans have evolved to have the thought process, 'it wont happen to me'," she said, "and that's been a downfall. I wanna live, but I'm not 'fool enough' to think my survival instincts are as good as yours."

A pregnant silence hung between them as they stared at each other, Daryl attempting to find any ounce of untruth in those words. But she was logical, and he couldn't doubt that she was right. At least about the preparation part. As for survival instincts, she would learn. She had to.

...

A crunch in the leaves caught Daryl's attention, and his finger itched the trigger of the weapon on his lap. He gently nudged away from the sleeping girl next to him, and stood as silently as possible. The trees were veiled in a blue so vivid, he didn't need the clock to tell him it was early. 4 or 5 am, rustling started again, and a figure emerged from the woods, rounding trees and suddenly, the person was so clear to him, he felt his stomach lurch in shock.

The grey haired woman stared back at him, the darkness making her familiar eyes unreadable. "Daryl?"

Daryl let out a quite breath, and did a double take on the spot. "Y-you're alive," he breathed, and pulled Carol into a hug.

A few moments later, the unexpectedness of the moment subsided, and Carol noticed his companion, still sleeping against the tree. Even with the small amount of distance, Daryl felt uneasy. "Who's the new friend?" She asked, while the question of the whereabouts of everyone else stained her eyes with worry and loss. He didn't want to wake her, so he took the woman a little further away, while keeping his eye on the one asleep. "Why are you here, Carol?" He recalled the argument he'd had with Rick about her exile. He didn't have a reason to not trust her until now, so his plan, as he formulated it, was risky.

"I found Tyrese and Judith. The prison…He explained."

"Where are?" he rushed. He felt sick with relief that Little Ass Kicker was well and…well, kicking. "We found a shack about a mile back, left them there with a man from Terminus, that's why im out here. Its bad, Daryl. The man…I don't trust him. They're bad people."

Daryl thought momentarily, and staggered as he rubbed his eyes, checking over Carol's shoulder that the girl was fine. That was the push he needed, and he'd just have to suck it up and trust his old friend.

"I need a favour."


	9. Chapter 9

The dew was thick on Eve's clothes when she woke, and the stale taste in her mouth reminded her that her blissful dream could not have been real. The hot water in the bathtub against her skin was long gone, only now replaced with the cool, early morning shiver.

She opened her eyes, expecting Daryl to be either off hunting, having left the fire just simmering to provide heat, or sat before her expectedly for the 'rise and shine' routine. But he wasn't. A grey haired woman, probably 50 years old, was sat down before her, wiping down a very sharp hunter's knife.

"Daryl has gone on his rescue mission," she stated coldly. "He asked me to keep an eye on you."

Eve raised her brows in question, annoyance building up in her hungry stomach. "Im sorry, who're you?" She didn't mind sounding rude. The woman looked up from her task, and her eyes, Eve found, were not threatening. They were a ghost of kind, hardened and wrinkled. She smiled gently, subtly.

"Im Carol. I was at the prison."

Eve suddenly felt a rush of guilt for the woman, but it subsided instantly. At least, she chose not to focus on it.

"So Daryl's gone to Terminus."

"He asked me to keep you here-"

"So, babysit me." She shook her head in derision and stood up straight, and saw that beyond the trees to her right was clear sky. In front of it was a wire fence. Eve approached it, and watched as the army of walkers approached the unsuspecting terminus. She couldn't see Daryl, but she was too aware that he was out there, alone and arrogant and still, indestructible. She closed her eyes to gather herself, patting her belt for all her knives, blades, switchblades and katanas, one on either hip.

"You cant go out there," Carol stated, but there wasn't too much effort in it. Eve opened her eyes and turned, and spoke while gathering and tying her long hair into a bun so nothing grappled onto it.

"Its not just the walkers, Eve. The people are keeping them there."

"And just why are you out here, Carol? Before he asked you to keep an eye on me, what were you going to do?"

Carol stared blankly at her, unsure of what to say in reply. "I was going to save my family. Because I know how. Do you know how?"

"Don't question my experience of this world," Eve began, squaring onto the woman, who was just the same height as her. The heat built up, bubbling in her stomach. "Ive lost too many people to be stupid enough to ignore the necessity to survive." She lurched to the tree, peeled off her hoodie, retrieved her crossbow and began walking away along the fence. "If you wanna help, we could use a distraction."

…

The explosion scared her out of her skin, and she watched as the gates blew open, allowing what looked like hundreds of walkers into the apparent sanctuary, grabbing and killing the men behind the lines as they shot. It seemed to make no different; any they may have hit were instantly replaced. Eve continued running, and found the road the walkers were following. She stabbed a couple of stragglers struggling to keep up, and found that the entrance was far too crammed to use that route. She skirted around to find a weak point where she could climb over and hop down, taking down a couple more.

The area was a complex maze of small buildings and boxes, cages and trailers, all part of what used to run along the track they'd been following. The walkers were building up, desperate and fast in the masses, slowly gathering around her. But Eve didn't stop to evaluate the situation for long before a couple of gun shots signalled the arrival of help close behind.

"Go! Ill cover you!" Carol shouted from behind, and Eve followed her direction. A huge coagulation developed ahead, and screams surrounded her wherever she ran. Katana in either hand, she ran the sharp blade through anything in her way or too close for comfort, and aimed for any sign of life.

The walkers continued to cram her vision, but she stayed strong, until a familiar set of angels wings turned to her. She prayed then that he was okay, and he turned around just then, not seeing her for all the corpses snapping at him.

One particularly fast one, a male with most of the upper part of his face missing and a matted-brown vest, went for him. Eve felt every part of herself shut down in dread, except for her arm; it raised straight away and her crossbow came out of nowhere.

She pulled the trigger just as it was an inch from Daryl's unsuspecting neck. The arrow impaled his rotten flesh between the eyes, and it dropped. Daryl searched around for a moment, and his eyes found hers.

Feeling the sickening relief surround her, her anger still held strong, and she threw her weapon back on her shoulder and grabbed the katana back from her other hand, throwing him the coldest of looks. "Carol's covering us. Next time, don't put me under the care of a person on their own mission."

She didn't look round to see if he was following her, because she heard the sound of arrows flying around, following her with the shuffle of his boots. It didn't matter that he could be heard now. "I did it-" another shot, "to save your ass!" He grabbed her arm and pulled her around on her feet to face him. "What part of 'stay where you are' don't you get?!"

"What part of "I'm not leaving you" do you not get, Daryl? What would you have done if Carol didn't come? Just leave me there and hope I was alright?!"

A walker was about to interrupt, but she shoved her blade through his chin, and blood dripped down the blade as the first drops of rain pattered against her arms. Tugging it out with sickening ease, she shrugged his hand off and continued on her way. A few more gunshots surrounded them, some followed by screams. Some followed by yelps in pain and agony. People killing people.

That was it now. That was what life was, now.

Daryl called behind her to duck, and a small object flew over Eve's head and fell into the crowd.

The pair cut and slashed their way through the walkers while another explosion sounded by the gate, vastly decreasing the number of walkers struggling to make their way to the fresh meat inside the walls. On the floor lay disembowelled humans, some weeping weakly as life left them, some already dead, some with empty eyes open and straining to stand on what was left of their ravaged legs, growling in hunger. The rain poured down to the extent that some were slipping on the blood puddles beneath then, crashing into eachother and teeth gnashing at bodies they couldn't reach. It was pitiful, harrowing, sickening.

Eventually they made their way out of the perameter of the terminus, struggling up the mudslides that had previously been the path back into the woods. Any tracks had been washed away.

The thickness of the trees provided a noisy shelter from some of the rain, and Eve and Daryl found their way back to base, only a hoodie and swamped remains of the fire left.

"Carol!" Daryl yelled over the racket about, to no answer. "She went to Terminus, too," Eve admitted, "she was covering me."

"Didn't she try and stop you?!" he shouted back at her, and Eve turned to face him, staring at him over the few yards between them. "As I said, she had her own mission."

"Yeah; to stop you!" He threw his stolen crossbow on the floor and paced in a circle, linking his hands behind his neck in an attempt to calm down. "How you could risk that…I thought you were smart, Eve."

His voice was dangerously low and calm, but Eve didn't back down. She felt the anger stab at her eyes as he insulted her. "Really? I thought you were aware enough to know when a walker is about to tear you neck out; guess I was wrong about that, too."

"I could've taken care of him," he excused. His arrogance knew no bounds.

"Not with that many around you; not that close. You know that, but you too much of a stubborn ass bastard to grow a pair and say it."

The area grew silent as his feet stopping shuffling around, and the atmosphere was so thick, the rain couldn't be heard anymore. Or maybe it had just stopped. She noticed then that her arms were aching like hell with the kill of what was probably 30 to 50 walkers. She couldn't help but count to keep her mind off the sounds they made.

"She's right, Daryl," a familiar woman's voice said. "If I didn't let her go, you would have died down there. It was too much for you to go alone."

Daryl let his head fall back as he turned to her. Eve didn't see his eyes, but she wasn't expecting the anger to rip from his voice like it did. "I trusted you! Couldn't you just do one thing I ask and keep her here?! One thing!"

"I couldn't stop her," her weak voice argued. "and I was right. She was right."

"Like shit. You just wanted to get out there and prove to Rick that he was wrong."

Carol shifted on her feet, looking sodden and determined to fight her corner.

A large group of very battered looking people emerged behind her, and Eve and Daryl sobered. Carol turned, and the tall man at the front looked each of them in the eye. Carol was first to stumble ahead and meet them, hugging each of them and being introduced to others. Daryl hung back, and he and the bearded man regarded each other. They shook hands, but the emotion between them hung like that of lost brothers, reunited again. Eve watched and let herself forget the situation between Daryl and herself, and felt a tear fall as she leaned against the closest tree.

"Rick," Daryl said and the tall man approached the girl on the outskirts. "This is Eve. She...helped." He held her eyes for a long moment, and Eve felt the anger melt away as she waited.

"She saved me."

Her heart hammered rapidly as they stared at each other for a couple more seconds, and then shifted her eyes up to Rick. "Nice to meet you."

He shifted on his feet and ran a hand over the facial hair that made his face look skinny, and Eve noticed his eyes looked dry and sore. "Thank you," he said in a very thick southern accent, like Daryl's, but softer. Carol approached the trio and place a hand on Rick's shoulder.

"Want me to take you to her?"

Rick shot a look down at the woman, who'd just about composed herself, and the answering gaze made his breath splutter from him. He covered his mouth with his hand and leaned on the tree. "She's alive?"

Carol nodded, barely able to contain the watery smile from her face. Eve looked to Daryl, stood next to her, in question.

"His baby, Judith."

The whole group were lead by Carol for only a small while, and a large man emerged, baby in his arms.


	10. Chapter 10

As Tyreese emerged from the shack with the baby girl in his arms, Daryl chose that moment to daringly take Eve's hand and gently tug her away a few feet to talk privately. As much as he longed to see Little Ass Kicker, that could wait. This couldn't.

They wandered away discreetly and Daryl didn't dare look at her, in case she was still pissed as hell at him for what he'd done and said. Thankfully, it seemed to be only simmering beneath the surface; her eyes were still a little strained, but her voice was calm when she asked him what he wanted to talk about.

"I wanted to apologise. I shouldn't have left you."

She gazed at him with such a stunned look, he felt a little offended. What did she think of him? Then he was hit with some of the things he'd said to her, all things that he'd only meant as far as his injured pride that the very thing he was trying to save was saving him instead.

"I … I don't care about that now. I know you could've handled it, probably. I just wish you'd told me."

"I know. Don't remind me, okay?"

She grinned at his injured lion routine. "Silly Daryl Dixon. You hoard guilt like other people hoard trash. They're out and safe because of you."

He could do nothing more than look at her beneath his hair, settled over his face as it hung low, and feel her confidence in him soak into him like sunlight. To think this girl saved him wasn't so humiliating now, because he allowed it to happen. Ever since he'd found her.

To think of anything happening to her made his stomach twist uncomfortably, so he did something he'd never been brave enough to do before then. Within seconds she was in his arms, clutching hers tightly around his neck as his snaked around her waist, clinging on for life.

...

"Daryl! Eve! Lets go!"

That was when the ever increasing group packed up what little belongings they had and began their journey, led by Daryl, who kept Eve close behind. They didn't talk much; the group was virtually silent for the small part of the journey, brooding on what had happened, where they would go to, how they would live together. How they would take precautions to make sure what happened at the prison never happened again. Rick took the chance to ask Daryl what the situation was when they took a short midday break.

When he approached him from the back of the group, Eve promptly left to rummage in their shared rucksack for water. Daryl stood waiting for him. "Eve has a storage facility a few miles out."

"It's secure?"

Daryl nodded. "It could be better, but with the man power we could build ourselves our own little Woodbury."

"And you're sure she's gonna let us just stay?"

At that moment Eve returned, followed closely by Carl and Michonne. To Daryl, the kid looked older. A lot older to when he'd last spoken to him.

_Strong kid, _his inner voice mused.

"Dad, Eve told us we have a place to go. Is that true?"

Daryl made eye contact with Eve, who had that tiny smile playing on her lips. He nodded curtly. "If she said so, kid."

His childish face broke from the serious mask he'd developed to a ghost of that childish happiness he'd left behind. "Good. I'll go and tell the others."

From then they resumed their journey, and didn't stop until they reached that familiar opening in the trees, with that familiar hoard of walkers still trying to cram themselves into the store down the street. It occurred to Daryl how much he and Eve must have seriously dawdled trying to find their way. The facility seemed undamaged, the shutters were down and intact. But he still had that episode with the roof hatch fresh in his memory. He prepared his hunter's knife as Michone and Rick stood either side of him.

"Rick, we'll go first. Michonne, you stick with Eve. She knows the building better than any of us."

He was answered by the smooth unsheathing of her samurai sword.

"And just what do we do?" a loud female voice called from the back. Daryl turned round to find it belonged to one of the new members; the girl with a cap. "Well just kill any walker you see, got it?"

She cussed under her breath as the group scattered to salvage what they could and kill any wandering piece of meat they came across, and the foursome left them to have their fun. Eve and Daryl exchanged a look as they pulled up the shutter together.

"We'll cover the bottom floors, you two cover the safes and the upper offices."

She nodded wordlessly, and he felt a warm bubbling in his stomach; dread. He knew, however, that she could take care of herself. She was just one of the incredibly strong women in the group.

...

They entered and split ways, and Eve was left with the intimidating woman trailing behind her. It came as no surprise that Daryl had chosen the Lost Samuari as her partner. It was obvious she, like him, was built to survive. It felt a little demeaning, because the only reason she was in here with her was as a guide.

Maybe she just wasn't over the event of that morning, yet.

"Daryl can be an ass sometimes, you'll learn to love that about him in time."

Eve glanced at the woman behind her. She almost began to believe that Michonne didn't have a voice.

She gave a small humourless chuckle, and said, "Yeah."

Her blade glinted as they passed a window in the upper floor staircase, catching Eve's tired eyes.

"Nothing up here," Eve quietly resolved, finding the ladder and lock still in place, just where they'd left it. Not a sound to be heard, not a door open. "All clear!" Michonne announced. The group reassembled in the garage, with the absence of Rick and Daryl.

As Eve glanced around and listened for any sign of them, a shadow passing one of the back windows signalled company. Daryl knocked on the window pane and motioned for the group to follow.

They found him and Rick in an arch way Eve didn't recognise, just behind the facility she'd been staying in for however many months. It was gated, a padlock keeping anything out, and the small amount of moonlight shone on what looked like a pond. A small pond in the centre of a patch of grass, surrounded by a selection of small shops. All in tact, all pitch black with no one home.

"Eve, did you know about this?" The girl looked to Rick, who was staring down at her with quiet impatience. His voice was tired with the day and yet, on edge. Eve stared in disbelief at the unfamiliar sight and shook her head. "Never. Kind of feel a little stupid, now," she whispered, and felt the cuff of Daryl's sleeve brush against the back of her wrist with a jolt.

"If nothing has got in yet, that means we could have an abundance of supplies."

"We could grow stuff," Eve added to Michone's suggestion, and smiled up at Rick. "No walkers got in, so theres no risk of contamination."

Rick turned his speculative face back to look through the bars again, and sighed. "We'll get a better look in the morning. Now, we need rest."

...

Every member went for a safe to sleep in; Rick kept his children close by, Maggie and Glenn roomed together, the newcomer's neither Daryl or Eve knew the names of yet took one together, and the others took individual rooms. Eve decided her bed was to remain as a shelf, and she prepared to sleep, laying in the foetal position, when she heard the sound of footsteps shuffling towards her.

"Here," a distinctly low voice whispered, and he placed something next to her head. Eve turned her head to see Daryl over her shoulder, his quietly intense eyes the only thing she could see in the silhouette he cast in the moonlight. She was used to the effect his appearance kept having on her now. She adjusted herself to move into a sitting position, bringing her knees up to her and leaning her chin on them, taking the bear clock in her fingers.

"Why did you pack it?" She asked, wondering why she'd not asked before. Maybe she'd just been scared to, in case he took it the wrong way. In case she didn't like what he said. Just...for it to be something as simple as to keep her neurosis at bay.

His shoulder shrugged, interrupting the grey rays that had settled there. "Dinner dates and shit." They smiled at each other, though Eve was disappointed that he reacted so flippantly. She wanted a little more than that, but he was gone before she could look to see another meaning in his eyes. She placed it back down gently and lay on her back, listening as the other occupant settled, too.

"We're talking about cordoning the area off, building walls in any weak spots."

Eve broke her staring contest with the ceiling above and a tear strolled into her hair. "Sounds good."

"Any input?"

She shook her head. "Its a good idea. Maybe a little ambitious, especially since we've got that little garden place to use."

"Hmm," he said after a thoughtful moment, "maybe. But it'll be safer."

Eve nodded silently. Her mind was far off now, back to a few hours earlier, in the woods. How Daryl's arms felt around her, how he felt in her comparatively smaller ones. The sheer fact that it'd happened made her heart race, her stomach flutter, her head swim, in way that she'd forgotten about. She'd stopped thinking it was possible now, that people could see each other in such a way. It crept up on her so steadily, she'd barely noticed when something had started. But it had. And it was longer ago than she wanted to admit.

"Eve?"

The girl peered over herself to find Daryl was leaning his back on the wall, sat in a similar way he did against the tree that night, the night during which she'd laughed for the first time in weeks. She pushed herself up to almost mimic his position, holding his eyes over the 12 feet between them.

"You killed it out there today."

Eve grinned to herself, toying with her sleeve. "Thanks."

He nodded, and rested his head back with a thud. Eve did the same, and began staring at the ceiling again. So much stuff hung between them now, it was impossible to tell what it was. But she resolved herself on one thing, and she just wasn't shy enough to keep it from him.

"Im never going to apologise for going against your orders, Daryl Dixon. Not when you're about to die." She lowered her head to see him, to find he was already staring at her. Then she did a bold move, and hopped from her spot to walk over to his isle, and made her way to the shelf right next to his, no partition between them. "As long as we're together, we can fight for each other. We're safer that way."

Daryl watched her lie down next to him as though she had taken some happy pills and professed to being a shark. But he did nothing in the way of protest, and she felt his eyes on hers as she closed them.

She heard and felt as he slid down to join her. "So stubborn," she heard him murmur out loud. That earned another smile from her as she felt sleep finally take her. "You're stuck with me."


	11. Chapter 11

The next day consisted of exploring and respectfully ransacking the few stores hidden behind the gate, thanks to Daryl's lock picking skills. How he's needed or acquired them, Eve didn't ask, and they discovered a barbers, a convenience store, a pokey little clothes shop, a chemists, and a movie rental place. The group took what they needed on a desperation scale, and then Rick called a short meeting to discuss his and Daryl's plan to build a few walls. The plan grew until people were allocated to scouting for scrap metal and bricks, building, finding foliage for camouflage, disposing of the walkers within the walls, and keeping watch outside them. Eve was one of the party within, set on the roof with her trusty katana blades and quickly disposed of the roof based corpses with ease, and chose to ignore the thud of their flumping bodies hitting the outside of the first erected trap Michonne had taken care of; each was to have a set of stakes protruding from the ground in front of it, for extra precaution. The walls would start being built until the next day. From then, Eve, aided by Carol, began tearing down the fences for better use, and Michonne helped take down the ladder, which would be transferred to the front.

By sunset, each gap had between 3 and 15 stakes defending it, composed of wood or pipes taken from a nearby hardware store, and the evening meant both Michonne and Carl were concentrating on removing their splinters.

The new kitchen moved from a safe to the garage, where a long DIY table lined the back wall, next to the door to the storage room, packed with cans and non-perishable goods. It had been a couple of days since any had had a meal, and tonight was no different. With the light of candles throwing shadows on smiling and relieved faces, they feasted on potato chips and chocolate, sweets, beans, anything that tasted ok without cooking, which was an extensive list in relation to the hunger.

That's when Eve truly began to feel like she knew these people, like she could be one of them. Together, some of them had so much history; Rick, Daryl, Glenn, Maggie, Carol, and Carl were the original group, and Michonne, Tyreese, Sasha and Bob joined them later. They'd been welcomed, in the place of some they'd lost. Eve gathered that Rick had lost his wife, and Michonne had taken the place of maternal figure in Carl's life, and, though they didn't say it, they loved each other in the way of their make shift family, each a replacement for someone else.

Daryl lay on his side next to her as she rested back on her hands, relaxed and drunk on the laid back atmosphere, happily chewing on beef jerky and beans. They'd not spoken much at all that day, but that was ok. Being here, in the group, next to him, showed her that the world still had life in it, and it wasn't bad.

Sleep came easy, for both Eve and Daryl, who'd taken the time to move the rest of her belongings onto the shelf beneath her, like his scarce ones were under his. She'd thank him for it tomorrow.

The following day, cement was taken from hardware store, and the handful of walkers were dealt with in a second from Eve's spot on the roof; it was settled that she was a good shot with both a gun and a crossbow, so she took watch of the woods and surrounding roads with a clear view for the first time. While she waited, and began getting to work on a couple of bins for soil and water, using left over wire, nails and wooden posts. From this view, she could watch the walls slowly coming together, except for the wide gap filled by trees; that was the fence, stretched out and lined and reinforced by posts for strength, taken care of Rosita and Tara. Abraham was with Daryl, both working on their wall in silence. They had argued that morning on who was best to haul and who was best to build; probably for the sake of it, on Abraham's side, because she could tell he didn't like him. Daryl, she admitted, wasn't the most agreeable of characters on first meeting; she thought with amusement of a few of his comments, and noticed a woman in white lumber her way towards the stakes. She was smart enough to stare at them in blank wonderment, and yet walk into one anyway.

"Eve! Got those barrels?!" Carol called up, and threw some rope up to Eve so she could lower them down. One was a manger shape, and they dragged them out of the way into the garage.

They both stood in the shutter door way for a moment, observing the group at work. "Coming together nicely, isn't it?"

Eve nodded with a agreeable smile, and looked to the drained looking woman.

She said, "You don't seem too convinced," Eve observed. Carol met her eyes and smiled kindly. "Don't let yourself get too settled, that's all I'm saying."

Eve nodded and remembered what Daryl once said. "Daryl told me that was what happened before, at the prison. It's what happened here, too. We thought the power would last, but we didn't know how long this was going to be for. Thought it would be just a couple of quarantines and that would be it."

"I know."

The women paused their conversation for a moment when Daryl stalked over, sweating in the heat. His sleeveless shirt was filthy with cement and soil, a few dashes of dirt on his face and arms. "Ya'll having a nice chat?" He asked sarcastically as he squinted into the sunlight and wiped his cheek.

"Just taking a rest, Dixon," Eve retorted, stretching her back and arms above her. "How's it coming?"

"Shouldn't be too long," he said, looking around at the little complex they'd developed. It was amazing what two days and a handful of people could do. "That's just the basics, we'll be needing more reinforcement and foliage."

"But wouldn't too much provide the walkers with something to climb on?"

Carol looked at her thoughtfully. "Walker's aren't all that smart, Eve."

"They figured out a ladder," Daryl remembered. "How did ya think they got up there, flight?"

Eve giggled at the image that flittered into her mind, and met Daryl's eyes.

"Just for the fence, so they can't link their fingers in the wire," Carol excused then.

Eve nodded. But it was Daryl who volunteered to go out there, in place of the girls, to find sufficient leaves and twigs and vines, probably for some rest bite.

Eve resumed her position on the roof and killed a walker a few paces beyond the wall with the crossbow, just as Daryl nudged his way through the gap in the fence the intrusive walker made days ago. He turned and nodded, and she replied with a smile, hoping he knew the meaning behind it; _stay safe, I got your back._

He went on and approached the walker, yanked out the green feathered arrow and pocketed it, and disappeared from sight.

He disappeared for hours, and after 4, Rick began asking questions. Apparently it was natural for Daryl to go for hours without showing his face, according to Carol's attempts at calming the worry, he used to be gone through the night, all day, days at a time, just hunting. Just stalking a deer. But he'd learned, and he'd stopped, and this was concerning them by sunset.

"I'll go out and find him," Rick announced, already checking his gun clips for ammo. But Carl argued against him. "No, Dad. You know him, he's fine out there."

"Carl-"

"Dad, please, you can't track as well as him."

"He's probably found a particularly fat squirrel," Maggie offered, gaining an attempt of a smile from her worried husband.

Eve remained on the roof, and could hear the conversation clearly, but she wanted to wait, wait until there was any sign of the archer or anything that could've gotten to him.

Nightfall approached, and fires were set around the perimeter, and Tyreese joined the immovable Eve on the roof in the wait for Daryl. They'd all agreed to do shifts from now on, to further cover the walls and anything that could get through. But he'd only gone for leaves and twigs; nothing could be keeping him this long.

Having never spoken to him before, Eve didn't know what to make of Tyreese. He had to be a good man, she resolved quickly, having looked after Judith for so long; she knew the story of how he'd found her, taken two little girls to rescue, and found Carol. He appeared to be still reeling from the death of the sisters in his care. His eyes were sad, but not wary of the world like Rick's. They were reluctant; he didn't like being up here, he refused to be on killing duty.

"Eve," He said finally, his voice low and quiet in nature rather than for the environment. "Can I offer you some advice?"

Eve turned her tired, wide eyes onto the man guarding the opposite side, still with his back to her. He turned gently, his gun ready in his hands.

"What about?"

He took a breath, and said, "Not long after I found Rick's group, we found survivors, and we were okay."

"If this is going to be about getting comfortable, Tyreese-"

"I met a woman," he interjected, "and I got involved. Too involved. Started thinking things could be normal, we could be how we would be in normal life. But she…she got sick, and I lost her."

Eve continued to listen to the stranger as he spoke. She didn't know what else to do.

"When that happened, I fell apart. I became so…focused…on revenge…so angry…I took my eye off the ball. All because I fell in love at the worst time."

The sound in her ears of her pulse ran the blood to her face, and she was glad for the lack of light to show her glowing face. She was only a little embarrassed. Mostly, she was angry.

"Im sorry, but I don't see how that is advice that applies to me."

"I've seen you and Daryl together Eve, and I know we've not spoken before, so this might be misunderstood. But Eve, please, don't make that mistake. Im not just thinking of you two, im thinking of the strength of the group."

Eve shook her head quietly to herself, and turned her back onto the man. Her blood was searing with irritation that he'd been so bold, so presumptuous.

At that moment, Eve's eyes caught a movement in the road ahead, and then whispered to Tyreese as her heart thumped. "Look!"

Two figures approached the wall, one unmistakably Daryl, and with him, another figure, lumbering along and appearing to be slumped on him. Eve made her way down the ladder and climbed the wall to get a closer look. The other person was being supported with his arm over Daryl's shoulder, appearing to be very dishevelled, his head lolloped into his chest. He was barely conscious to keep his legs moving. Daryl struggled to keep him up until they reached the wall, and held his arms up for her to tug him up as he pushed.

"Where did you find him?" she asked with a grunt with the amount of weight. He was lighter than he should've been, but she still wasn't built to lift a person over a wall. "Found him a couple kilometres from the edge of the woods, must have followed us."

His body slumped down into her arms and she very carefully tried not the drop him to the ground, instead lowering him on his side. His hair was black with mud, as were his clothes, and the stench coming from him made it hard not to gag. Daryl jumped over and Tyreese carried the man into the garage, where Michonne, Rick and Carl were eating, Judith close by, in silence. Rick rushed to Daryl and placed a hand on his shoulder, checking he was okay. Then he aided Tyreese in carrying the body into the storage room, to the very front of the room, which was lit. "Get Carol," Rick ordered Eve, and Eve ran to her room to get her.

"What's going on?" she asked as she joined the small group as they gathered around the unconscious body, his face covered by his hair, a beard, and dirt. She'd gathered some cloths and towels and water, and deducted he was severely dehydrated.

"He followed us from Terminus, must've taken the chance to scram when we ambushed it."

All eyes found Daryl's, and then back to the body. Daryl, however, avoided Eve's eyes, standing away from her with effort. Eve neared him and pulled him to one side as Carol and Michonne began laying wet clothes over the man.

"What happened?"

Daryl still wouldn't meet her eyes, and shifted as he spoke. "Hid him and tracked him back to Terminus. He stuck with us for 12 miles, then went his own way."

"Did he speak?"

"He was a mumbling sack of shit when I found him."

"Anything on him?"

He shot his eyes up and back down again, and hesitated. "No."

"Really?"

He nodded, and stalked back outside. "Going to keep watch."

He left Eve watching him walk away, and she saw the exhaustion in his face. But he was his own man, and she couldn't ask him to give it a rest for no good reason.

She returned to the group, and aided in washing away the dirt and blood from his face, distracted by her thoughts.

"Where is he?"

"Keeping watch," she said in reply to Michonne, and frowned down at the man's face. Her breath caught in her throat as her hand froze.

"No…"

"Eve? What is it?"

Eve could barely speak, and tears pricked at her eyes. She couldn't identify how she felt then, but only the back part of her mind registered what was happening as she stared in silence at his face.

"Sam."

"Who?"

She tore her eyes from him to Tyreese, who was holding Judith close by.

"My…my fiancée."


	12. Chapter 12

"He's awake," Rick said as he approached Daryl. He was standing on the edge of the roof, looking ahead. His crossbow was hanging from his shoulder, his hand pocketed. This was a man in thought, but that could wait.

He turned so Rick could make out his profile in the night. "Said anything?"

"No. Just senseless mumbling."

The man nodded, and resumed his thoughtfulness. As he neared, Rick had doubt running through his mind about his friend, his second in command. In truth, he seemed to have been slipping since they'd been reunited. But he'd not had chance to confront him about it yet; the dream of being free had taken over, and the haze was clearing now.

Rick said, "Eve knows him."

He waited for a response, but the lack of it told him Daryl was either hiding his feelings…or he knew. He was skilled at both.

He waited a little longer, but no response came.

"Daryl," he sighed, placing his hands on his hips in impatience, "If she's causing trouble for you-"

"What does that mean?" He shot, finally turning onto the ex-sheriff, and crossed the gap between them to leave a foot between them. Rick had experienced pissed off Daryl before, but it had been a long time. A very long time, back with the issue of his brother handcuffed to a roof in Atlanta. He was so different, he couldn't picture the man getting that way now.

Guess he was wrong.

"Look, I know what its like-"

"What _what's _like, Rick?! Quite your damn preaching." He stormed a little ways off and returned to his standing place, where Rick joined him.

He spoke in a quieter tone, "Daryl. Brother. The last thing this group needs it to see you lose yourself. We need you, and you're aware of that. Look, I don't know what happened before you found us. But it's time to come back from that, now."

"If she's in the way of that-"

"What, do what you did to Carol, just leave her on the side of a road with nowhere to go?"

"No. That's not what I mean."

"If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be alive. I wouldn't have found you. You," he turned and pointed right in Rick's face, and then motioned to the building and the people in it, "Would be dead. And you're out here talking shit about throwing her out of her own damn building?"

"That's not it, Daryl. I know what she's done, what we owe her."

Daryl made a derisive sound through his lips, and began stalking back to the hatch.

"You might be too damn far gone to do that, Rick, but I ain't doing it."

The hatch shut with a resonating metallic sound that ran through Rick's brain like white noise.

…

Daryl passed the couple quietly as he made way into the kitchen, but he wasn't unnoticed. The kid, Sam, was awake.

He was startled by his voice as he said, "You must be Daryl." He found his face in the dark, and was confronted with a straggly looking young man with dark eyes, even in the fire light. "I wanted to say thank you."

Daryl gave a quick scout of the room, and his eyes landed on Eve, on her bed next to his. He cocked his head to the girl and turned his eyes back to Sam. "Should thank her, she's the reason you're out of that place."

"But you brought me back to her. I'd still be out there…where ever I was."

The archer nodded to himself, and gave a curt nod to Sam. "Get some rest."

He smiled and nodded, and took a slip of water before sliding down under the covers.

Daryl was so tempted then, when he checked on the girl, to just climb in next to her and close his desperately sleep deprived eyes and just let sleep take him. But he knew that wouldn't be right. With Sam back to her, it felt like a sign. His mind told him to go, take his things, and find another bed for the night, and the nights to come. He grabbed his things without making a sound, and made his way, ignoring the urge to look at her again.

…

Eve didn't open her eyes to expect Daryl to be there, because realisation happened as soon as she woke. Why she kept her eyes closed, maybe she was just avoiding confronting Sam. Who he was now, what had happened to him, she was too scared to find out. She was also too scared to find out how she felt around him, what she'd betray to him with one word.

"I know you're awake," a gravelly voice said. "Morning."

She shook her head, and did the whole waking up routine to cover herself. "Morning," she yawned.

Sam was sat up in bed, and she hopped from her bed and walked over to him. She sunk the glass next to him in the basin by his bed, and held it up to him. "How're you feeling?"

He took the drink and sipped. "Better... You look... good, Eva."

"Don't feel it," she said honestly, forcing a smile onto her lips. It was strange, they'd not spoken like this for a long time, so, conversational. It felt like talking to a stranger, putting a tab on what you said so you didn't show them what you really thought. Sam took her hand, and held it for a moment. "The redneck showed, Daryl? I said thanks."

Eve nodded, avoiding his eyes on the subject. She knew then that if she looked up, her fiancée, or whatever he was now, would read her like a book. Like that she didn't like the way he referred to the man who'd saved his life. "That was good of you. What did he say?"

He took another sip. "Nothing else, just said I should get some rest." He took his hand back and a gush of air rushed to her skin. "Should probably follow that up."

He slipped back down under the blanket, and Eve pulled it over his shoulders. "Sleep for a while. We'll talk later."

When she was sure Sam was asleep, Eve made her way to the kitchen, occupied by Sasha, Bob, Maggie, and Carol. In Maggie's arms lay Judith.

"Hey, you seen Daryl?"

Maggie shook her head gently while cooing down on the baby as she fed her. "I think he moved out to give ya'll space."

"Yeah, he moved his stuff." At that point Maggie looked up, and then passed the baby to her husband. "Wanna talk about it?"

Having not spoken to her much, Eve didn't know whether Maggie was the kind to leave things be if she refused the invitation of a chat or just drag her away and force her to tell her about it. Eve didn't know what to say; she wanted to talk about it, but she didn't know what she would say. She'd always had a problem with letting things out, scared of what reaction would come back to her.

Taking her silence, Maggie folded her arms and approached the girl for a more private, "come on."

Outside, Rick and Carl worked on the walls while Carol worked on planting in the home made barrels.

"Must be strange, having all this again. Having to do it all again." Eve looked across to the girl next to her, who was nodding gently. "Been on the road for so long before this, it feels strange just to stand still."

"Daryl told me it was the Governor who did it."

The woman shot a look at her. "You knew him?" Her eyes were wide with anger and sadness. Eve nodded, and explained what had happened to her people at the hands of that man and his subs. Maggie's eyes shrunk with sympathy. "Daryl tell you that he murdered my dad?"

Eve stopped and regarded the woman, who was struggling to hold up her sad smile. Her voice shook as she whispered, "Decapitated him, right there and then."

"I'm so sorry," was all Eve could say in reply. Not only had she lost her father, but she'd lost her sister. She wondered if Daryl had explained that bit yet.

"So," she said, a little too loud, tucking her hair behind her ear, and then a quieter, "must be confusing for you with Sam back." They'd begun walking again, lining the walls with a path. All Eve could do was shrug. "I don't know."

"Eve, I've seen ya'll and Daryl. I aint ever seen him like this."

"Like what?"

"Back ho-…back when I first met him, he was harsh and rough and so removed from everyone else; out of just a sense of pride. But I always knew there was a heart in there somewhere." Her new friend gave her a knowing smile. "Around you…he's different."

Eve thought about what she was going to say to that, but she couldn't think of anything. Finally, she relaxed and admitted, "I wish I could believe that. He's different to when I first met him, but that was because of the people he was stuck with."

"What people?"

"The men, thugs and drunkards by the looks of them. Led by a man called Joe. Kept him with them when they found him."

"Was this after he lost my sister?"

Sighing with some kind of relief, she nodded. "They were gonna…I don't know what they were gonna do to me. But Daryl and I killed them."

"Sometimes I just think he thinks he owes me something."

Maggie smiled sweetly, and began laughing quietly. "You can't know him well, then. Hes a man of code and principle, but if he thought he owed you you'd know it. A man cant hide his guilty looks that well."

Thinking about that made Eve feel a little better. Just talking about it with a girl made her feel better, letting it out and getting a perspective. To know that it wasn't just in her head, an idea that would occasionally pop up that something existed between them.

"Still, Sam's back now."

"That don't mean you gotta stick with him. Life's too short to go through the end of the world with someone you don't love." The woman stopped and turned to get a good look of her. "When I met Glenn, I took the bull by the horns and now we're here. Gotta take risks before you regret it. Aint nothing better to do than survive, and that aint no life."

Just then, Eve heard her name being called. "Eve!" Rick shouted over, and pointed to the figure of Sam standing in the shutter door way. He was staring pointedly at her, looking pathetic.

Like he'd just escaped hell, but hell hadn't escaped him, yet.

Eve gave one last glance to Maggie, and ran to join him as he squinted in the now blazing sunlight. "What're you doing up? You said you'd get rest." She began guiding him back into the building. He strained and placed his hands either side of her. "I was going mad in there, you know I don't like doing nothing."

Rick managed to overhear the protest and went to check up on them. "Everything alright?"

"Yes, thank you, Rick. I was just getting him back."

"I think she's right, Sam. You've just been through hell to get here and you still ain't 100%. For you to be out here would be a liability considering your present state."

She could see the cogs working behind his eyes before, finally, he gave up. "Fine. But when I'm good-"

"We'll be needing all the hands we can get," Rick finished, and gave his best attempt at a reassuring smile.

"Come on, quicker you get back the quicker you'll get better," Eve advised, and he followed her direction back to the unit. Eve threw Rick one last thankful glance and led Sam back to his bed. She stayed with him for a short while, and Carl walked through with a glass of water. "Here."

Eve made eye contact in thanks with the kid, and he met with a small nod and a knowing gaze. Sam took the water and threw it back like a shot.

"Thanks kid."

"Carl," he corrected, his eyes too dark and old beneath his sheriff's hat with what he'd seen to be recognised as a kid now. His childish face was dirty from the work. "No problem."

Soon enough, Sam was dead to the world, and Eve took Carl to one side. "Thanks. He needs to let his body rest."

"Need anymore, ask Carol." Eve nodded, but the boy hesitated, avoiding her eyes. After a few moments, he finally said, "Thank you for letting us stay."

…

No one saw or heard from Daryl for the rest of the day, but each were too occupied by their tasks to notice until dusk began to print itself on the clouds with its purple-ish hues. She loved the sky like this, the time between dusk, nightfall, and then from night fall to dawn again. The use of the words reminded her of the conversation over the clock, the importance of time to her, and his views on it. It seemed foolish now, to think time in numerical form as important. But time still continued to tick, and life was quantified, and right now it was counting through the hours that she'd not even laid her eyes on him.

She kept her mind busy by checking on Sam, helping with the planting, building a couple more barrels and shooting a couple of walkers while they attempted to break through the fence. It occurred to her that Daryl had probably used all that he'd gathered in the way of foliage as a cover for Sam's lifeless body while he tracked him back to Terminus. It also occurred to her that a wire fence would also be quite weak, even with a camouflage. At some point, the roof would be unoccupied and a walker would make it through. So, she made her way down the ladder and found the hidden collection of shops and patch of grass to explore for ideas.

One place they'd not entered, out of lack of necessity, was the barbers. Of course, the stripy red and white pole wasn't spinning, but other than that, it was completely untouched. The glass was intact and a little glazed, the little bell rang as she nudged the wooden door open, jammed with heat expansion. The fully equipped little shop reminded her of the ones you saw in old movies or movies set in the 50's, a gentleman sat waiting in the black leather chair while he had a young man shave his groomed chin. It was tragically quiet, however, no chatter of news or light music in the background. It was silent, dimly lit, and lifeless. Why she'd entered? Simple curiosity. Maybe Daryl was sleeping in there, on the floor or on heap of towels instead of allowing himself the luxury of the chair.

She walked quietly through the little shop, and found her way to the back with no luck of Daryl. But as she turned to make her way from the shop, the sound of something crashing to the floor made her jump. A song began playing, respectfully quiet.

'_Cupid, draw back your bow…' _It sang, the music slowly making the shop a little more eerie. She almost laughed at the horror movie-like scene. Would she be fool enough to follow it?

"Daryl?" She called over the smooth voice, and waited. Her feet began to take her back into the back, and the music was loudest behind a white painted door, reading **MENS. **She watched as her hand moved towards the door handle, turn, and open.

Hunched in the corner was a something in a white barber's outfit, and it turned to her. Its terribly old face was wrinkled and grey, its skin stretched thin over its bones and bald head. Its eyes were empty and a diluted shade of green. Throat slashed and caked in old, dry, brown blood.

Its eyes were locked on to her, and it began moving, crashing into the door as she threw it forward with panic, but it was out, and it was clawing for her. Her back crashed with the wall, and she fumbled for her blades.

Bu they weren't there. Of course, she'd taken them off to sleep. _Idiot! _She scorned herself, and began scrambling with the arms that struggled to hold her in place.

The music played over and over as its hand finally got around her throat, blocking out any screams.

Something green passed her periphery and landed in Old Man Walker's head, and it dropped to the floor with the sound of a large bag of bones.

Her hand flew to her chest as breath rushed into her lungs with burning relief, and strong hands braced themselves at her shoulders.

"Shhh…its ok, it's gone," a gentle voice chanted, almost too quiet to be for her alone, and her tearful eyes found Daryl's sharp ones, only now they too were panicking. He stroked her hair out of her eyes fiercely as he asked if she'd been bitten, but she just shook her head and melted to him, and his arms formed a protective cage around her as she calmed, the music still playing. Either it had restarted, or the commotion lasted for a lot less time than originally thought.

A few minutes later, Daryl and Eve entered the bathroom again, and Daryl picked up the little red radio, battery operated. He poked a button, and the music stopped and out popped a tape. "Can't believe it still works", he commented. He placed it on the sink, and exited.

"I'm sorry," Eve finally said as they exited the building, not bothering to take care of the immobile carcass. "I've not been that stupid in a long time."

"Eve, you can't afford to be stupid. Please, next time you go exploring, take your knives. Anything. I aint gonna be around all the time to help you out."

"I know, I know."

Daryl looked at her for a long moment, and dropped his crossbow to the floor with a sigh. "How is he?" he asked, sitting down cross legged, and she kneeled down in front of him. "He's fine," she said, knowing that wasn't what was playing on his mind, at least not out of genuine concern. He began taking his bows from their quiver and wiped them with his checked brown long sleeved shirt, an attempt at busying himself.

She kept her eyes on him as he held his head low over his work, and asked, "How're you?"

"Fine," he said, a little too quickly, and dropped the last arrow from his fingers. Obviously his task hadn't been as time consuming as he'd wished. Finally he met her eyes, and rested back on his hands. "Where you been staying?"

He cocked his head to the hardware store to his right after a moment of hesitation.

"Why not stay in the clothes store? Im sure its comfier."

"Not much used to comfort, these days, Eve," he commented dryly, looking up at the sky as it darkened. It was now that florescent blue, the bluest the sky could possibly be. The starkest sky you'd ever see, with no clouds and no stars, because they were all consumed by that colour that was so loud, it swallowed. It was funny, she'd never appreciated that colour until now.

"I know why you went," Eve finally said after a couple of minutes in silence, listening to his effort to relax his breathing and adrenaline rush from the attack. Hers, she was sure, would hit again in a few minutes, but right now she was ok. "So don't feel like I'm here to ask why you did."

"You'd be a damn moron not to," he shot, but it was his usual voice, low and quiet. Not malicious. Strangely, she didn't take offense. Instead, she lay back and stared up at the vast dome of sky above her.

"So why are you here?" he asked, after countless moments. Eve looked over herself to find him still sat up, but his legs crossed again, leaning his elbows on his knees and plucking at the grass before him. She smiled at the Daryl Dixon version of forlorn and brooding, and sat back up with such speed it made her dizzy. It also caught him of guard a little, and the fresh closeness of their faces forced him a little back.

"Say thanks I guess."

The corner of the straight line of his mouth twitched, and he looked back down. "Hmm." He met her eyes again, and glanced back down again as he muttered, "no problem."

"But I don't know what for yet, just… thanks," she finished cryptically. He gave her a small frown, and shook his head, and stood up.

"Better get you back," he said, and she hoped he was at least going to stay for dinner. But the journey was dismal and short and quiet, and it turned out that staying wasn't his intention. He was gone once they found the shutter door.


	13. Chapter 13

For her to say thanks felt like the final word. For her to say she didn't know why was cruel. She knew why, he felt he knew why. It was because her damn fiancée had been brought back to her, and she just wanted to...he didn't know, protect his _feelings._

counter, plucking the meat from a freshly killed squirrel. He tried to ignore the memories of her frightened face, the way it's claws dug into her neck, the way she fell into him once he'd saved her. The way he was scared to death that she'd been bit, or scratched, or anything to make her turn into something he'd have to kill. But they hit him hard like a punch in the head.

He damned Rick for convincing him to stay, for convincing him they needed him. Because that made it clear to him how much he needed them, just as much as they needed him. And that made him feel weak in a way that Merle never did. Merle made him feel ashamed, not because what he was saying was true, but because he let himself believe it was true.

The kind of weak he felt now was the kind that made him think, made him doubt himself and his capabilities.

He thought himself in circles, until finally he was too tired to form a thought. He slept a broken sleep, and that dream...the Merles taking her. It came back.

...

Three days later, the subject of where to put Sam was up for discussion. He was still weak, but he was eager and restless and they needed the sleeping tablets, just in case. So he was in charge of defending the wire fence while Michonne and Carl went out for wood, Bob the medic occasionally checking on him.

Eve still didn't know how to feel about him being back, but her conversation with Maggie barely felt substantial since her talk with Daryl. It was like, now she knew it had an existence, the thing between them fell, stopped existing. Like betraying her secret took any substance from it.

Maybe it was all in her head. The thoughts wound round as she stirred the cement for Abraham's wall, which was very nearly finished.

Once that was done, she joined Sam on watch, more to keep an eye on him, and started talking.

"We've not really spoken that much, have we?" She began, a humourless laugh escaping as she took out her knife. She eyed his gun pensively. "How long has it been since you last shot one?"

He shrugged, and he seemed to break out of some sort of trance. "Grabbed one at the terminus from one of the bodies. Shot a few."

His hand was shaking as he spoke, so she lay her hand on it carefully. "Steady," she whispered. Slowly, the shiver retreated.

"That bad, huh?"

His pale face stayed still, his lips barely opening as he said, "They ate people, Eva. So yeah, that bad."

She gazed back down to the floor sombrely. "I know, stupid question."

They made eye contact, and for the first time since he'd arrived, they smiled together.

"So, how's it been here while I've been away?"

"Fine," she lied, only for the part with Joe's men. Other that that, it was all fine. Oh, and the walker.

She felt his eyes burn into the side of her head, and looked ahead to smile. "Fine. But we got 'em."

"'Got what?"

"There was a group of men who got in, but we killed them. Then a walker. Daryl got that one."

"Well im glad to hear they took care of you."

An anger boiled up in Eve's stomach then. Memories of past conversations burned into her, ones where he'd tell her it was too dangerous, or she couldn't defend herself. Or that she was alive because he was around. It made her want to snipe that she wasn't, that she wasn't pathetic.

"We rescued the group, Sam. Before Daryl came along, I was doing fine-"

"Daryl? Just you and him?" He was fully turned to her now, his eyes burning the side of her skull. "And...the two of you...rescued this group? From where?"

She turned to frown at him then, and said, "Terminus, Sam. Where you were." It was like telling a child, until a haze lifted from his eyes, and it became clear.

He thought she'd taken them all to get him.

Guilt replaced the anger, but it was too late to back track now.

"You...you didn't come for me."

"Sam," she said instantly, taking his still hand. "When you came out of that cabin being carried, I thought you were dead. I followed the truck, but I lost you. I had to think you were dead; if I didn't, we'd both be."

His eyes were focused somewhere far away, and slowly, his hand fell from hers. "Maybe you should've kept going," he murmured, and stalked away, leaving her at the fence, shaking.

Out of the corner of her eye, Maggie made her way over with quick steps, just as a tear began to fall from Eve's left eye. "Eve," she said, all rushed, "What happened?"

Eve stared blankly at the space where he'd been, her eyes sore. "He thought we went back for him, Maggie. Thought I believed he was still alive, all this time."

"Eve, he's being an ass. What else were you to do-"

"He was right, though, wasn't he? Maybe if i'd just carried on following-" She swallowed hard and Maggie placed her hand on her arm. "Stop that. You'd have died if that had happened."

Eve glanced at the woman then, and felt the words come out before thinking. "That's what I said."

"So, don't tell me that was him walking off with his tail between his legs."

"He said that in that case...I should've kept following." A breath released itself from her lungs as Maggie's hand flew to her mouth. "Bastard."

All Eve did was shake her head, and make her way to the ladder, climb, and sit on the edge of the roof. The heat of the sun burned her wet cheeks. She didn't realised Maggie had followed her up until she heard the gravel shift next to her.

"Wanna talk about it?" she asked gently, but Eve just closed her eyes, supressing the urge to let it all out. Everything, not just Sam, but everything before. But the backs of her eyelids were dry, and that was it.

"Daryl doesn't want anything to do with me," she wept, wiping tears as soon as they fell into her hair. She sat up, and shuffled back so no one saw from below. Calming her breath, it stopped shaking, and her little outburst seemed to subside. "Spoke to him last night."

"What did he say?" Maggie pushed. Eve found her eyes and smiled at the sisterly bond between them. People replacing people. "Not much. Saved me from a walker, so I guess I expected that."

"A walker?!"

"Yeah, barber shop. One place we don't check and its the only one occupied."

"And he saved you from it?" Eve nodded, and she could still feel the heat from his chest as he hugged her into his angel wings jacket. Still feel his hands on the sides of her face as they removed hair from it, still heard the fear in his voice, hoping she was okay...her fingers found her pendant.

"Your eyes are a long way from here, Eve. You sure he wants nothing to do with you?"

Truth was, she wasn't. But it was easier being around Sam that way. Thinking Daryl had nothing for her. No matter how much she wanted it.

"I guess."

...

She checked her eyes for any soreness left over, but they'd cried so little it was almost embarrassing that she'd bothered. Finding her way back down from the bathroom to her bed, she found Sam, lying on the pile of blanket beneath him. His bearded face was drawn, and the shadows thrown on it from the dimness of the room made him look older. Exhausted.

He didn't turn his face to her, even when it was obvious he heard her footsteps. So she made her way next to him, and lay on the shelf beside his.

"When I said that, I didn't expect you to react that way."

Eve continued staring ahead as she said, "Poor excuse of an apology."

She heard him inhale sharply then, and let out a long breath through his nose. "So why did you? React that way, I mean."

She let her head fall to the side to see him, and give him the full force of her glare. "Because it hurt, you idiot."

"Why?"

"Because..." She closed her eyes hard as she worded it correctly. "Because my last link to the world before this wished me dead, ass hole."

"There she is," he commented, a little louder, with a little more confidence. "There's the Eva I know and love!"

She smiled sadly, and took her eyes away momentarily. "Always been here, Sam."

He turned on his side then, and she found his mouth in a small curve beneath the mess of his facial hair. "And you love me, don't you." It wasn't a question.

Eve nodded, and felt a lump form in her throat at the way he stated it. He worded it just as neatly as she knew he would. As he placed his hand on her cheek, he said, "But not in the way you love him."

A tear fell over the bridge of her nose and onto the surface beneath it as she confirmed his statement with a nod.

"You're too damn good to tell me that thought, aren't you? Like you're too smart to need me anymore."

It was strange, how so much had changed in that last few seconds, the last few words, and suddenly she knew him again. It was Sam, but no longer her Sam. And that wasn't just because he'd changed. It was because she'd changed in the absence of him. Because she loved the archer, and Sam knew it. It was weird, being so candid and honest with him.

And the way he said she didn't need him any more formed an emptiness in her stomach. "You say that like you're leaving. You don't have to."

And she really didn't want him to.

With that, he closed his eyes gently, and took her hand between them. He held it instead of entwining his fingers with hers, and she was okay with that.

"You don't need to feel guilty, Eva. This isn't my home, never was. Out there, I'm moving. You know I don't like to be doing nothing." His reasoning was faultless to a fault, and tears stopped falling. Eve just let herself lie there, next to Sam. Not Sam her Fiancee, or Sam her boyfriend. Just...Sam. Sam, the man she'd spent most of her apocalypse with, and who she was about to lose. Sam, her security blanket. Sam, fellow survivor.

...

They didn't wake until the morning, and Eve thought that she might help him pack his things. Previously, she thought maybe that would just be her hastily throwing soil back into the grave, but he asked her, and slowly his things became one of Daryl's blades, a handgun, ammo, two bottles of water, chocolate, a blanket, and a packet of Aspirin. Apparently all zombie apocalypse essentials. The members of the group said goodbye, with the absence of Daryl, but Eve didn't expect him to be around. She'd find him later, and foolishly hope that he still wanted her, if he ever did.

Eve was genuinely sad for Sam to go, but her night's sleep left her with a clear mind. In the end of it, he was safe and out of that place. He had no destination, but he was smart. He'd figure it out.

They came to the wall Daryl had brought him to just under a week before, and they pulled one another into a hug. Eve kissed his clean cheek, and jumped. "Almost forgot," she said, and pulled the katana he'd gifted her from her belt. He, however, pushed it back to her. "You need it."

"Already got another," she said, lifting the hem of her vest top to reveal the green handle. Still, he didn't take it, and gently wrapped her fingers around it. "Then keep it, you don't have to completely let go."

The smiled in understanding, and he climbed his way over the wall. She watched as he left.

When he disappeared down the road, through the trees or whatever direction he took, Eve made straight for where Daryl told her he was staying. The gate opened and landed back with a clang, and she ran across the grass to the store, and she pushed the door open and called for him.

No answer.

"Daryl, its Eve." Still, no answer.

She walked through the entirety of the little shop, but there was no sign of Daryl Dixon anywhere. Not in any of them.


	14. Chapter 14

In the two weeks that followed, people had speculated, worried, feared the worst, and, finally, resolved their suspicions that Daryl just upped and left, without saying goodbye or so much as a note. Some felt that meant he had a reason, and Eve was on that side of the metaphorical fence. But it was so hard to stay there, when each time she recalled how he'd just disappeared made her mad as hell. Her brain told her he just needed some time to himself, to find himself again, to gain back some of his lone wolf demeanour. In the mean time, the walls were completed, the fence was reinforced with wire and camouflaged, the spikes were gathering 10s of walkers at a time, and everyone had a job to do. One of which was collecting the walkers from said spikes, which was...pleasant.

They were surviving without him, and they kept telling themselves that was enough. But was obvious that the ones who'd known him best were missing him, and she saw it in Rick's eyes like he took it all on for himself. He was drawn, and gaunt, and Michonne forced him to have a shave to improve his appearance. That was a shock to wake up to, clean shaven Rick.

In the mean time, the small subgroup of Abraham, Rosita, Tara, and the quiet, pensive Eugene left, much to the sadness of Maggie and Glenn, who owed their reunion to each of them. Maggie shared the story with her, like they'd exchanged a few. Maggie had become the sister she never had. They purposely avoided the subject of Daryl since the first night of his absence, when Eve broke down in anger, and, although she saw the knowing sadness in Maggie's eyes, she never even said his name.

Michonne had too become a friend of sorts, based on their preference of blades and their proficiency with them. They trained together, and, at night, Eve would do target practice with her new gun. Bob also helped her build on her first aid training in the evenings over meals; he was eager to teach, and she was eager to learn the more she soaked in.

She was becoming more and more self sufficient as the days went by. But it still didn't help the recurring loop of thoughts that would bombard her at night. Worry over the archers safety, knowing that, if he were still alive, he would be out there, alone, probably with a fire and his eyes blazing as he watched it, nothing else to do. The space in her chest were her heart should be felt empty, emptier than it did in the day, but her brain mentally slapped her with a sharp _thwack!_

_Of course he's still alive, stupid bitch, _a mental voice cursed back at her.

Then she would wonder how _their _reunion would be, if it ever happened. Some parts of her would want to throw her arms around him, kiss him like crazy, just squeeze him to oblivion and let him know that she missed him but that it didn't matter. Then another part wanted to ignore him for a few days. The final part wanted to slap him so hard he would go back a month.

The final part of her thought process would be a small game to send her to sleep, and that would always work.

The fourteenth day of Daryl's absence, and Eve was on the duty of pealing the delightful corpses that had accumulated on the wall stretching across the road, busying her brain with reflecting on what they'd done. Everything down to the steps that allowed her to make it over the wall from the other side.

Six walkers had been dumb enough to impale themselves on to the sharp pieces of wood, which meant five were even more stupid to see their friend and follow suit. She dragged the bodies a little of out the way and onto a pile of dry leaves in a mound, and set them on fire.

As she waited and waited, for the bones to turn to crisp and ash, a small movement out of her left periphery caught her eye. Another walker? No doubt. She took her gun and pointed it in the direction without looking first, bracing both hands on it.

But what she really saw was a dark figure, his walk not a lumber or a stagger, but heavy and sure and human. The gun fell from her hands as they dropped to her side, and the figure paused for a moment, watching her, about 30 feet away.

She didn't know what to say to him exactly, or how to remember to speak. He arms were numb and her heart was hammering all the blood in her system to her ears. She was so aware, it was smothering.

"Daryl," she whispered to herself, and they began approaching each other with reservation, not saying a word. How she'd react, she'd let her arms decide. But it was her legs that decided to run, and she crashed into him with such force, they almost fell. But his arms clung around her and she felt his smile on her neck, the warmth of his body radiating into her and then retreat as he pulled back, only enough to see her. His arms stayed just where they were.

"Hey," she gasped, unable to hide the smile from her lips. His small grin was itching to get through as he removed one hand to stroke her hair from her face, a gentle version of post barber walker attack. "Hey."

Man, she'd missed his voice.

After a small while, she brought him back to the wall to find that Maggie, who she'd forgotten was on roof duty, was waving like crazy. Obviously, she'd seen the whole thing. Rick was already waiting on the other side for them, and let them have their talk while people gathered. Maggie came to her first, grinning uncontrollably. "How ya feeling?"

Eve couldn't speak for all the grinning and laughing to herself.

Daryl, later that night, explained to them where he'd been, after mysteriously taking Maggie aside and having a small talk with her. He general mood changed after that, to one of relief. Daryl explained that he'd been out hunting, saw a car that wore the same symbol as the one that took Maggie's sister, Beth, and he'd followed it. He followed it all the way to Atlanta, and found her at a hospital. He broke in, and in short, Beth wanted to stay. The only thing that made her want to leave was a female police officer, who'd been taken out by a walker during the break. Beth was safe, everyone good was safe. Daryl was safe. Parts of it, he was lying, but she was sure he had it reasons.

Eve understood when he disappeared after that, and he threw her a small _everything's okay _smile. She believed him. So she stayed up a little while longer and took care of baby Judith while Carol did the dishes and Rick patrolled with his son, everyone else in bed after the long day.

...

Daryl moved his belongings into the clothes store when he left, and made his home, once again behind the counter atop a coat. It was as comfortable as he allowed, and yet he couldn't sleep. He felt bad for leaving her hanging like that, telling the group what happened, but not explaining himself to her personally. Why he left, why he didn't say goodbye. But she was an intelligent girl, and he was sure she wasn't too angry to form a rational explanation.

Truth was, when he was as tired as he was, his thoughts were more exposed to him, and that meant his emotions were more exposed to the others. He didn't want to be around her…because he wanted to be. He didn't want to share emotions…because when he was with her, it was so tempting, he had to move away like she was the sun stripping his skin from him, revealing everything inside. The reality was plain; he'd missed her like hell, and it taken a hell of a lot quicker to make it back to her than to save Beth. He'd tackled the burning sensation to go back, once he knew that Sam was gone, but he persevered. On his way back, his guilt over Beth was seeping from him like an infection, and he pictured the auburn haired, bright eyed girl waiting for him, and his feet moved like bullets.

He suspected she understood, why he went. Why he'd not talked to her yet beyond "Hello." And that began an hour long battle with his legs to stand. Finally, they did.


	15. Chapter 15

The stars were so clear that night, Eve ventured through the open shutter door and just gazed, her glass of water comparatively cold to the warm night air. It was 11 35, and everyone was asleep, save for Rick and Carl on the roof, and she was sure Rick let Carl sleep on watch, even against Carl's wishes. But a chill came over her, and, deciding she didn't want to go back to bed just yet, she returned just to fetch her cardigan, and walked back into the kitchen to find Daryl's familiar silhouette, a foot from where she'd been standing.

"Oh," she said weakly. "Joining me for a little star gazing?"

He nodded, and he dropped no weapons to settle, because there were none with him. No crossbow, no visible knives. Not even his jacket. Just a man in a shirt and he looked…vulnerable. It seemed all that other stuff came together and created an indestructible zombie killer on the surface. Like this, this was just Daryl Dixon, a man who'd survived and kept doing it. Now, it said, _but I aint gonna keep doing it forever, _and that fact made a piece of her heart break.

So many thoughts in one moment, so she broke out of her revere and wrapped her cardigan around her arms, and joined him. She was barely concentrating on the stars, and, by the feel of his eyes on her every so often, neither was he. So she began with the first question that popped into her head that wouldn't lead them into any awkward silences.

"So why did you lie about the car?"

She turned to him then when she was sure the question had captured his attention, and found his sharp eyes, cogs working.

"I didn't lie. How did ya think I got to Altanta?"

She shrugged, not letting him talk her out of it; she knew a lie when she saw one. "I think maybe you found it on luck."

"So, what was I doing out there in the first place?" he quizzed coyly, obviously thinking he would win. But he wouldn't. She was feeling bold. "I don't know…hunting, out for a walk…" She trailed off before any real suspicions came out, and by his delay he was waiting for more options.

Finally, he looked away, checking back to her once. "Smart bitch."

She grinned in victory.

"I went…just before Sam left."

He didn't meet her eyes then, but hers were glued on his profile. "Why?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned onto the frame. "Guess I had shit to deal with."

"Beth?"

He nodded once. "Beth."

"How did you know? That he was leaving, I mean."

He met her eyes lazily. "Came to see me, probably a couple hours before you woke up."

Her mouth formed a small 'o' in realisation, and her face became a little warmer. "What'd he say?"

He turned back to face the world outside, looking at the woods or the forest or godknowswhere and nowhere in particular. "Just that he was leaving. To take care of you, like he knew I would." Again, his eyes found hers, and his voice came out a deeper, more pronounced version than usual, and it made her heart race and her knees weak like a cliché. "But you don't need protecting. He knew that as much as I do."

Her lips formed a weak smile, but she didn't feel as strong as those words should have made her feel. It was like that didn't matter as much anymore, that she'd proved to him that she could make it on her own. He'd allowed her to see that, so obviously it had occurred to him more and more as she progressed.

"But that don't mean I aint gonna take care of you anyway," he added, after probably too long to make it feel like just a passing comment.

The stars seemed to shine more brightly then, but they didn't matter either. "And why is that?" she asked, a tone of teasing slipping into her voice. Looking to her, he stayed silent, and let his eyes answer the question for her as he pushed gently to stand straight again. Only now he was a lot closer, his eyes, his mouth…

She understood everything that was in that look, because she knew it so well. She just had to ask the right question to know what it meant, and it clicked in a way that, in a movie, angels would sing 'halle-fucking-lujah. But now, in reality, it was quite different.

The moment was so perfect, stars and silence and stillness, that it was tempting to think that something wouldn't go wrong. But it did. It so very did.

The first sign that broke out was Rick's harsh voice cursing for Carl to wake up. The second, a pair of gun shots. The third, the fence rattling with life behind it, because death was too stupid to miss the stakes.

"I got one of your men, Rick! Shoot us now!"

The voice was foreign to Eve's ears, and she waited for any recognition in Daryl's eyes, still so close, but he shook his head. "I don't know," he whispered, taking her hand and rushing back into the building. People were already wandering into the storage room, asking questions as they wrapped their arms around themselves. "Whats going on?" Tyreese asked, coming to the front of the group. He looked genuinely concerned, frowning over his big dark eyes.

"Ambush," Daryl said, and the group wilted. _Not again, _they each said without a word. Eve spoke then. "They said they've got one of us," she announced, and everyone checked each other. Tyreese, Carol, Maggie, Glenn, Sasha, Bob, and Judith in Carol''s arms. Carl entered the back of the room, almost running.

"They got Sam," he informed them. Eve felt her throat close. "W-what?"

He nodded.

Instantly she turned and went to walk out, but Daryl's hand was still entwined with hers, and it pulled her back. "No."

"Why not? Sam's out there and we're not gonna help him?!"

He answered her with a withering, but definite shake of his head_. _

"Why not?! You give me one good reason why I'm not going out there." She closed the gap between them to square up to him, and his eyes glistened with thought as he formulated an answer.

"Because you'll need me so we can get out and ambush them," he stated. He took his hand away and began helping her gather weapons together. The others followed Carl to the roof, other than Glenn and Maggie, who took the small child for safe keeping. Maggie and Eve shared one look of, _it'll be fine, _and Daryl took her hand again to take her to the kitchen. Gently, he worked one of the windows open and climbed out, and she followed him to the clothes store. She was shaking with cold and adrenaline. "Glad to see you took my advice," she laughed, but her voice was shivering. He folded her in his arms for the quickest, but sweetest of hugs, and took her hand, adjusting the crossbow on his shoulder, machete in hand. "Better get your katana."

He led her to between the building and a hedge, and they came out into the road, their wall on Eve's left. She kept close to it and Daryl itched forward for cover. Then the woods, and trees throwing shadows on each other, allowing no light to give them away. The ground was dry as a bone, but the leaves weren't crispy, so they couldn't be heard.

The group of men were four strong, all dressed in dark tattered clothing carrying sharp weapons and guns shining with silver blood. Three men stood, and another was in the front, crouched down. A second silheotte was in front of him, held to him, mimicking his movements from force.

…

Eve looked terrified, against her best efforts, and held up her shaking fist grasping her katana with pale knuckles as Daryl turned to her, placing his index finger against his lips, and turned back to inch a little closer to the unsuspecting attackers.

"We will kill him, Rick. You know what we are willing to do to survive."

Rick's smaller figure stood strong on the roof, a crowd behind him, all stood defiantly. Daryl saw each of their faces; they weren't bothered by the man they were threatening. Not passed the fact that he was a fellow human being, which meant little these days. Treating him like they'd got an abundance spare. It made him sick to his stomach and pissed as hell that they looked that way.

But Rick stood strong. "And what will that prove, Gareth? End an innocent life just to prove a point?"

"Points proved are valuable these days, Sherriff. Valuable as clean meat. You know why we're here," he taunted.

Each head was well in sight now, well in target, but Daryl could not attack a group with their faces turned away. It was unjust, cowardly in his eyes. Evil bastards like them didn't deserve the fast track.

As he approached, one small step at a time, Eve came into his periphery. Her shining blade was glittering, and he suddenly had an urge to hide her eyes before she did this, before he did this. He suddenly wanted to take her and run and just hope that they let Sam go for his uselessness. So he didn't let himself even glance at her.

The first blow came down on a man he didn't even glance at, and the _thwack _was followed by the sickening crushing sound of the skull. The other two men turned, but he got there before Eve could even reach them. The head one, Gareth, didn't even move, and Eve hopped over the slumped bodies to hold his old katana to the back of his neck, grazing it just so he'd feel it, feel it's future and how it would feel.

"Let him go," Daryl heard her say, but it was barely even her voice. It wasn't as weak as he thought it would be; it was strong and determined and almost a growl to his ears. But Gareth didn't flinch.

"Best thing about the walking dead, Rick. They still look alive from a distance."

Suddenly his arms spread to his sides, and he plunged himself back on the shimmering blade, blood spurting down his neck and on Eve's pale hands. She stared down, wide eyed and frozen, her silent horror drowning out the growls and savage gargles of the newly released walker. Daryl reacted on impulse as it turned and targeted her, arms stretched and face contorted in gormless death, just like the barber walker, and shot once. Its last expression on its bearded face was stunned shock, not knowing what the hell was happening as still fresh blood dribbled between its diluted eyes. It dropped as the gunshot continued to echo, and after a few frozen moments, Daryl placed his hand on Eve's, and helped her tug the bloodied blade from Gareth's neck, causing him to fall forward.

The walker on the ground was Sam. Bearded, scruffy, beaten Sam. When Eve saw this, he couldn't tell what her reaction was. He was a bystander, scared to death and worried as hell as to how she'd react. Her face was cold, no tears streaming, at first. It took her a small while to move, and he was scared to approach her.

The fence rustled, and Carl's thin frame stood, fingers linked in the wire.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, but his voice didn't mean for Sam. It was to her. It was _sorry we didn't care enough to stop this._

But they couldn't stop it. This happened before they'd even arrived.

At Carl's words, something seemed to switch on in Eve. Her eyes glanced down from the boy to the body, and her legs buckled. Her legs folded beneath her clumsily, and the sound that came from her was enough to break the strongest of hearts. It was a sound he didn't even think she could make, a girl like her. Guess she had a heart, too. One that could be shattered.

He could've left her to it, but he didn't want to. He knelt down beside her and cradled her to him, and the broken girl didn't even fight.


	16. Chapter 16

The following morning was _that_ kind of morning, where you drift from place to place, not talking much, not paying attention to much outside what you're supposed to be concentrating on. It was cold, dewy, and dull, and the soil gave to nothing. It was frozen.

Grave number one of the new Woodbury, and it was one of the rare times Rick had dug a grave for a walker. It wasn't any easier, thinking of it just as a piece of meat, as he dragged it into the hole, because it was covered in sheets. Because it was fresh. Because it was _he. _Not it. It had a name, and he knew it.

Didn't mean he had to weep for him. His eyes were dry and full of the world and its evils. Too full. Too full to pity a man he'd barely known, not part of his group, for a woman who'd just become family.

When he was done, he distanced himself a few yards out to a small clearing, big enough for a small inferno, and torched the four bodies, the corpse hand of Gareth's hanging out beneath one of the head of his comrades. It had a gory, dried up bite wound. The sacrifice he'd made to make a point. As he waited, watched, he thought about the new inversion that had been created, there and then. Burying the living dead, burning the real dead. But both desired flesh to survive. Maybe that was it.

The stench of flesh filled his nostrils, just for a moment, before smoke engulfed them in the fresh fall of rain and all that remained was a mound of crisp and an area of burnt leaves, and Rick standing in the rain, closing his eyes as the heavens opened and soaked him through.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said a slightly breathless voice behind him, and he turned to find Eve braced and hesitant, the fresh mound of soil a little ways behind her. The rain had ceased, leaving the newness of life invading Rick's senses. He looked away and shook his head curtly, checked back to the ashen sight, and backed away to where the woman was standing. He didn't know what to say, or whether to speak at all.

"Thanks," was what she said, and a little closer, he saw that her eyes were sore-looking. "For what you did. But it really was my responsibility."

She didn't sound ungrateful, though. She sounded like she was trying to put some effort of apology into a sincere gracious statement, and she felt guilty. He slicked his new shorter hair back that Michonne had forced him into cutting, and let his hand ran down his jaw, wondering what to say. "You shouldn't have had to, not after what you did for us."

"Rick, don't feel like you owe me something. Please, it makes me feel more of an outsider than I am."

He looked down to the girl, taking his eyes momentarily from the path next to the wall. "You're no outsider." She just looked up to him with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You buried a man only I was connected to. You're all part of unit with stories I'm not a party to. End of the world or not, family isn't created with a few walls and a secure building."

He took her arm as she reached and lifted her leg over the wall, and she stayed there a moment before hopping down to the first step, scanning the road behind it thoughtfully.

"Daryl not back yet?"

She shook her head, and connected her eyes to the man, a sullen look settling onto her features. "He's not usually out this long."

"He'll be back before dark," he reassured her, climbing over as she cleared the wall in one lithe leap.

…

The midday sun glimmered through the trees, the colours of the forest vivid and making it lie to him, making it look as though a massacre had not happened in such a place, one of the few places on earth the apocalypse hadn't touched. Oh, wait, there's a burn sight and a handful of crispy corpses, still simmering but damp and shiny from the showers. The fresh grave lay beyond it, and Daryl considered kicking one of the heads next to his boot. But he didn't, and he was glad he didn't. Fellow survivors who would have been his potential future. Because you don't know what you're capable of until you have no choice.

Before returning home he took a moment to crouch down next to Sam's grave and apologise, because he had been glad when he left. He was glad he had left like he was discouraged by his return, like he envied his connection to Savage, like he felt guilty for letting him go with no refusal.

Carefully, he stood and reached into his trouser pocket and out slid a tiny picture of a girl, not much younger than she was now, eyes bold with make-up and lips red from lipstick and alcohol and life. The red hair framing her face and the way her green eyes glistened were the only indicators of the girl it was. That was Sam's Eve, the picture he'd found in the disorientated Sam's hand upon discovery, and that was the Eve that loved him. He made a thin dig into the soil and pushed it in easily, covering it, and stood back up.

"Sorry brother," murmured Daryl, and returned to his home.

Eve was in her usual place on the roof, keeping watch and planting as usual in the barrels they'd moved up there, both for benefit of the growth and to give the someone up there something to do while they waited for something to shoot. He climbed up the ladders and sat on the edge, just a little in front of her.

"Hunting?"

He nodded, resting his hands back. "How're you doing?"

"I'm okay. Already thought he was dead, didn't I? Made no difference."

He nodded, but he knew what she was doing. Making herself feel better by not letting anyone in. Making others feel better by letting on she was okay. She wasn't fooling him.

"You know you can talk to me, you know. Whenever."

He felt her eyes on the back of his head, and imagined the strained sullen look he used to give plastered on her pretty face. "I'll be fine, really. I was fine before you arrived."

…

Eve checked herself in the mirror once, before deciding that it was the day to let her hair loose for once. She needed it cutting, but she didn't want to let go of it. She didn't care that it was a hazard to her health and safety.

She was surprised to find Rick, Daryl and Carol out in the storage room, shadowed by dim morning light shining through the windows. Rick and Carol found her and Rick nodded, Carol looked put out and threw out an excuse to leave. Daryl avoided her eyes and shifted his feet on the floor, while Rick approached her.

"We need some supplies, Daryl's going out for a run. I'd like you to go with him."

Eve exchanged her glance between the two men, the archer sighing quietly. Eve shook her head in irritation. "Why couldn't Carol go?"

"Because I suggested she take your place on the roof today for some target practice."

Eve understood then that any name she'd throw at him to replace her would already be busy doing something else, so she turned to her bed and grabbed her katana's and a gun, leaving the crossbow hanging on the edge. "Okay then."

…

Rick had his reasons. With so little else to do in a cordoned off place and everyone with a job to do, he couldn't help but notice lack of communication between two people. He couldn't help but see that the two people hadn't spoken for days, and that, despite it not being his business, he knew he had to do something. For the group, at least. And they did need supplies for Judith, and they were relying too heavily on the little convenience store. They needed something to refer to when they ran out. When they were on good terms, Eve and Daryl were capable of much more than a supply run.

…

Eve waited impatiently by the wall, her fingers tapping as they held the rucksack on her shoulder. Daryl emerged in all black and motioned for her to go over first. It was going to hell before the off. The lane ahead of them stretched for probably a half hour walk, and Daryl took off ahead and led the way. Eve decided that keeping her distance wasn't working, so eventually she caught up and overtook him for the rest of the way, and came to a crossroads.

"You don't know where you're going," Daryl's voice called as she slowed to a stop. She rolled her eyes. "Then communicate instead of expecting me to follow in silence."

He said nothing, and they looked at each other for a short moment before he cocked his head to the right, a road between trees and a large field on the left. They walked more or less next to each other, silence once again taking over.

Trouble came when a large hoard of walkers clogged up their path, piling in from the woods, all over something that was creating a smell of something dead and out too long. Before Daryl could say anything, she muttered, "Cover me." Eve pulled out each katana and sliced through their heads expertly while she heard the odd arrow penetrating a rotted head. When she was done, she went on ahead, ignoring the inkling that he was watching her, hoping he was a little impressed.

They walked for what seemed like hours and hours just piling up with no change in the sun, with no change in atmosphere. Then Daryl led her into the woods suddenly, and paid close attention to some tracks in the soil, moving bits of leaves out of the way every so often. "This way."

Eventually, the trees opened up to a large patch of land, sweetly concealing flowers soaking up the sun, surrounding a little bungalow, apparently untouched. It was then that Eve noticed the sun was barely breaking the clouds now, and the heat was becoming warm evening air.

"Stay here."

Eve waited as his heavy boots hit the wooden steps, making them creak audibly. At that moment, they both heard a light snarling coming from somewhere outside.

"I'll get it. You check the house."

After dealing with the walker, a middle aged man in a red stained vest and farmer's dungarees, Daryl emerged from the house and silently declared it safe with a nod. "We'll move faster after some rest."

"What, stay overnight? The others will be worried."

"It's better than being caught off guard. What would you rather do?"

Eve just nodded in agreement and went on ahead, a gas light already lit and centred on a small table beside the sofa, covered in a white crocheted blanket. It was a cosy little house, small and cluttered in a neat way. Homely. She turned to find Daryl had gone, presumably for firewood to warm the cold air, and scanned the house for what it held. The kitchen was stocked with cans and jars and shelled nuts, the beds were neatly made and the floors swept. The towels in the bathrooms all neatly piled on top of the toilets, gaslights in every room. Fire wood was already stocked in the bucket next to the fire place. It looked prepared for visitors. Eve made up a fire and scanned the bookshelf, when the door opened with a squeak.

"No walkers approaching, we should be safe." Eve nodded to herself and took a book to busy her hands. "How did you know about this place?"

"Huh?"

She turned as she fingered the pages of the book. "You tracked us here."

Daryl lay his rucksack and weapons next to the sofa end he sat on, and he sat back heavily with tiredness. "Found it on one of my hunts."

Eve found his eyes, but they were watching the fire sleepily. Then all she said was, "It's nice here," in a voice that was kinder than it had been all day. She sat in the armchair closest to him, expecting him to dose off at any moment. Every time she looked, he was still awake. Then he stood.

"Thought we were gonna rest."

"Someone's gotta keep watch," he excused, and he took the shotgun. "Enjoy your book."

"Daryl," called Eve. "No one has to keep watch. You said its safe."

When Daryl went to open the door, Eve put the book she had no interest in down and went to lean back on it. "Daryl, please. You're exhausted. Find a bed, go to sleep."

"You aint my damn mother, Eve." He once again reached for the door handle. But Eve felt stronger than he was at the moment. So he gave up, threw the gun back against the sofa and prowled around the room. "I can't stay in here," was all he said. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hand, and leaned on the back of the crochet covered sofa. Eve stayed by the door, and felt her heavy eyes heat up. "Why are you being like this, Daryl?"

He stared at his own knees for a while, and then found her by the door. "Like what?"

"Like a soulless asshole. You didn't want me to come with you, you barely even acknowledge me. If you need to get away, go to sleep. Don't feel like you have to go out and stand guard just to avoid me."

"We're in the middle of a supply run for a baby in the zombie apocalypse and all you can think of is me ignoring you? Grow up, Eve."

Anger boiled then, and Eve stormed away from the door to square up to him. "Why don't you just grow a pair and talk to me, Daryl? You say I'm immature when you can't even bare to look at me?"

"What have I done to deserve that, Daryl?"

"You've done nothing, Eve," he said witheringly. "Just leave me be."

She stepped back, and observed the man before her with a wilting resolve. "Fine." Then she found her way into the bathroom, locked the door, and let her tears pour onto the edge of the bathtub.

A small while later, she washed her sore face with cold water from the bottle left in there for emergencies, but she didn't want to emerge yet. So she laid a towel on the yellowing floor tiles and sat against the door, leaning her head back and calming her breath. A slight preasure on the other side startled her slightly, and she lifted her head up, only to let it lean back again.

Eve and the mystery something behind the door sat in silence for a while, and Eve could imagine how he looked, leaning back with one arm draped over his knee while the other leg was outstretched, looking his own version of pensive and miserable and exhausted with reality. She felt a sharp stab of something in her chest at the thought of his misery, and she didn't like it.

"Talk to me, please."

He didn't answer straight away, and she began to wonder whether he'd fallen asleep. But then his voice radiated quietly through the wooden door. "Aint nothing to talk about."

"Yes there is, or you wouldn't be here. You're just too darn stubborn."

"Shut up," his muffled voice breathed non-maliciously. Eve felt a tear drop as a smile threatened its way on to her lips.

She waited a while, and leaned her face to the side, thinking it might sound closer. "There's a door in the way. Start crying and I won't see it."

He breathed a laugh and said, "You best shut the hell up."

"Tissues on the table, by the way."

"Says the chick who's just been in there sobbing her heart out. Thought you were a hard ass."

"Even hard asses have hearts, Dixon."

While she waited for a reply, Eve toyed with the smile and wondered how they'd so easily settled back into their easy dynamic, even when there was so much there. It was like the dust had cleared, and relief had settled in its place. Like letting go. But she still wanted to hear him say so much she knew he wanted to. "I know you do, Daryl. Like I know you feel bad about Sam. And it aint your place to."

"I let him go," he said.

"On the promise you'd take care of me," Eve retorted, and knew she was going to trigger his guilt then. "Even though I didn't need it. I also let him go."

"That's different."

"How so?"

He hesitated, and said, "Different reasons."

"Didn't know you were a mind reader."

So many times had she avoided awkward conversations with him, and yet now she knew that all that time she wanted to hear him just say…something. Now she felt brave enough to push a little harder, to cross that boundary. They'd nearly crossed it before, numerous times. "I thought Sam was dead. I told you I was glad, because he died before he lost himself completely. Before he became one of those things. But he came back, alive, and you brought him back. And…I didn't want him. I wanted him safe. That was it. He left knowing that I didn't love him like i-…like before. I let him go. And he came back as the thing I didn't want for him."

"I'll have that with me for the duration, Daryl. You can't say that."

Daryl said nothing for a small while after that, and Eve began wishing she'd kept her mouth shut.

"You ain't used to losing people," he said. "But I'm cursed, Eve. Aint got no family, the people I protect I just keep losing."

"You aint lost me," Eve offered. Then he said, expectedly, "Not yet." She shook her head, feeling like she was getting nowhere fast. "We live in a dangerous world, Daryl. More people die every minute and these days, we could go extinct any second. We could be the last ones left for miles and miles. That aint on you."

"Its part of me now. Aint no getting rid of it," he explained, defeated.

Eve shook her head like he could see her. "I'm alive because of you. Rick, Maggie, Glenn, Judith, Michonne, Carl. They're all alive because of you. And Beth. And countless others…so you best shut up now, Daryl."

She knew it wouldn't help much, but she had to say it. Just so he'd remember what she said any time he fell back down, and blamed himself. If he couldn't think it, she would.

"And besides, you said yourself I don't need protecting now. I aint on you, Daryl. That's one less person on your conscious."

"Don't mean I aint gonna stop protecting your ass. Aint like I can stop."

"If this is because of Sam-"

"It aint."

Eve's heart rate picked up slightly. "Explain."

There was a little silence on the other side of the door, and there was a little movement as he presumably moved under the uncomfortable subject. "I mean, I aint protecting you under obligation to anyone else. I aint protecting you 'cause you need it, or 'cause you put us up, or 'cause you helped me kill Joe and his group…I protect you 'cause I can't stop. If I lose you, that's it for me. I'm done."

Her hands were shaking in her lap, but she wasn't cold at all. "W-why?"

She then pictured his head dropping to the forward in impatience, his face saying, _you're really gonna make me say it, aren't ya?_

"You know why, Eve."

She exhaled a long shaky breath, and shuffled forward so she could unlock the door. "I'm opening the door. Don't fall in or I will laugh and I think that might be inappropriate." She heard him stand up on the other side as the floorboards creaked under his weight.

Her shaking hands held onto the handle as she lifted herself up, knowing nothing would interrupt this time, and she opened the door. He was stood there, looking awkward as hell, weird as she felt.

"Is that why you ignored me after he died?"

He nodded, his eyes stuck to her, but they looked like they wanted to move away, like looking at something too bright and yet seeing if it would blind you. "Guess it felt like betrayal."

"How so?"

His shoulders rose as he inhaled deeply. "You really are a pain in the ass, Savage."

She grinned and let out a nervous laugh. "Hypocrite."

So instead of pushing further for what she wanted to hear, Eve approached him cautiously, and he didn't move, even when she was within inches of him, feeling his breath on her nose as he looked down at her. She locked her hands in her pockets to stop them from trembling, but his rough fingers took them and held them in his between them. Each tiny movement he made brought him closer. His chest rising, his face inching closer. Then his forehead fell to hers, and they stayed that way as their eyes closed.

Then her lips were on his, and she was falling without landing.


	17. Chapter 17

Baby Judith truly was the quietest baby to take care of, she barely even whimpered for her daddy, like she knew in her young age that he had more important things to do to protect her. It was nothing like Beth, when Maggie baby sat her while her dad was out of the room. She would cry and cry and cry, and it would be constant, never stopping.

Maggie was so glad she grew out of that, eventually. The pride she had in her younger sister for staying to help at the hospital made her arms pull the baby girl even closer, and she didn't even stir.

Every now and again Maggie would wonder how the love birds were getting along on their own, and she would glance in the general direction of the road to see any sign of return. But in her place at the shutter door of the unit, just behind it, not even the falling sun had a look in.

It truly bothered Maggie to see Eve not talking to Daryl and vice versa, because Eve had become her surrogate sister in Beth's absence, and the girl was so good natured, she needed some luck. And as for Daryl…she'd grown to love him like an older brother, even if they didn't get off to a good start. No one had a good start with that man. But when she approached Rick about the issue, she had ulterior reasons. For the good of the group, that's what appealed now. Not romance, not love, because she wasn't sure that existed in Rick anymore. Surviving ain't got no room for such nonsense and heartbreak. But she was sure he could see through her like a misty mirror.

"RICK!"

Out through the fence ahead burst Carol, even though Maggie heard she was supposed to be on the roof. Just as fast as she came through, her fingers were tripping over themselves to patch up the weak spot. Maggie placed Judith carefully in her basket and ran over to the panicking woman, where Glenn and Rick were already heading to. "Carol, what is it? You're were supposed to be covering the roof," Rick calmly informed her, but his hands were restless on his belt.

She looked around, her dirty face panicked and flushed. "Walkers," she breathed, and Maggie wasn't used to seeing the usually indestructible woman so breathless. "Herd of walkers."

"How many?" Glenn threw at her. She shook her head. "Hundreds. Heading straight for us."

Maggie knew the forest was only a couple miles thick, and her stomach dropped. "The fence is too weak."

Rick was already returning from the unit with two duffle bags filled with weapons. "Get as many as you can."

"Rick, there's too many! The spikes won't give us time at all!"

"So what do you suggest, Carol? Leave?! Because I don't think we have that left in us!" Glenn shouted, taking his place next to Maggie. But her mind was on other things.

Her ears picked up the familiar snarling of the walkers heading towards them. They increased not only in volume, but numbers.

"Get in the building," Rick announced in an underwhelming voice. But then looked around for the missing members. "Where are the others?" Maggie asked suddenly, the snarls drawing closer. Everyone turned to look at Carol, whose face was masked with cool indifference. "What? I don't know-"

"Rick! What's going on?" Tyreese's voice bounded as he made his way. Sasha and Bob emerged on the roof, and Bob had a pair of binoculars in hand. Rick breathed a sigh, but still his eyes searched for his son and Michonne. "Walkers. Ya'll seen Carl and Michonne?"

"No; I thought they were out here."

Rick turned and raced into the unit with desperate urgency, and the rest of the group split to check elsewhere. Upon return, each sullen and worried face confirmed a no show. Finally, Rick came back, grasping Judith in his arms. His shaking breath made no room for words, so he glanced in every eye for hope. Each looked away guiltily or shook their heads.

Finally Carol spoke up. "Michonne came with me. I don't know where Carl is."

Rick's reaction was delayed, but then he neared the woman, and looked straight into her eyes with dangerous ferocity. "You left her out there?"

"I had no choice! We were separated!"

"You had a choice!" Rick bellowed, shifting his baby girl out of the path of his voice. She began crying anyway, and Tyreese gently took her from his friend's arms. Rick gave her one last look, and began prowling by the group. A shot resonated through the group, and Sasha announced the first walker. "Get inside! Quick!"

"Go!" Rick shouted suddenly. "I'll follow!" Maggie, along with every other member of the group, knew what that meant. That meant he wouldn't follow. Not until Michonne and Carl were found. But there would be no convincing him, and Glenn tugged her hand and they ran after Tyreese and Carol, who'd been shoved along by Tyreese's impatience. Then he brought down the shutters single-handedly. "They got the ladder."

…

The fence rattled and gunshots fired in the distance, and machetes were flying and plunging themselves into the heads of rotten strangers as they tore down their defences, but Rick had only one motive. To find Michonne and Carl. For every face, he stopped to check for only a fraction of a second, then he ended it, or it was ended by one of the group on the roof. But they were wasting bullets. Too many to handle. Engulfed in rotten walking flesh and growls grasping for his skin.

The walker before him got far too close for comfort, and pinned Rick against the ladder rung, but he freed his arm and plunged it up through the jaw. The next was through the eye. The next…Rick was distracting by a catapulting sound, and a flash of green flew passed his sight.

…

The morning sun glared through Eve's closed lids, warmed every part it fell upon through the undrawn curtains, and she woke with a smile for the first time in forever. Her head rose and fell with the rhythm of the breathing chest beneath her ear, and she edged her face to get a look of him. He was either still sleeping, or he was tricking her. Begrudgingly, Eve sat up and stretched, straightening the clothes that had shifted and ruffled in the night, and stood to check the sun. It was high in the sky, but not high enough for midday. But it was the longest lie in she'd had for months. She felt the lateness of the morning like a guilty pleasure, a Saturday wasted in bed but not wasted to her. She heard Daryl stir behind on the sofa, and Eve couldn't conceal the smile on her lips. "Morning," he murmured, surprisingly coherent. It had occurred to Eve that she'd never seen him wake, and so never wondered what he was like first thing in the morning. Even when they shared a room, he was always off hunting before she'd even opened her eyes.

A pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around her shoulders and she leaned back, closing her eyes and forgetting any awkwardness over the new situation between them. She could feel that he was new to this, like she was unused to it, and it felt amazing. Like it had never happened at all.

"It's pretty late," she admitted guiltily as the arms of the silent man tightened gently, like they'd been there so many times already. "Get rest, move faster. That's the deal."

He nosed her hair sweetly, and she smiled pleasantly as she felt his lips graze her neck teasingly. "Hmm. Shut up."

She surprised him by turning within the circle of arms and kissed him swiftly on the lips, and smiled happily when she pulled away. "Nope, we're on a mission. Let's go, Mr Dixon." Daryl hesitated for a moment, his sharp eyes playing away with hers as they glued together. The longer she stared, the more she felt her resolve wilt. So she looked away and pushed back with her hands on his chest. "Come on. We have a job to do."

He nodded in agreement, and retrieved his crossbow with a last look round. "What did ya think of this place?"

Eve gave him a glance saying, _isn't it obvious?_

"I love it." He nodded with a knowing, self-conscious look in his eye. She offered, with no attempt at keeping the hope in her voice, "Maybe we'll come back one day." It'd be great to live in a house again, she added mentally. She went ahead, her own things in her hand and on her belt, and followed Daryl out of the house, knowing he could track it if needs be.

…

The supplies were gathered from a huge supermarket about 3 hours into the day, by which time the boiling sun itched at Eve's dry skin. The walk returning home was slow and gradual, but through little effort of trying to keep up the pace. The time alone they had together was precious, and Eve had the feeling that he didn't want to waste it, either.

"Daryl, how different was your life before this?"

"Getting lost in woods, hunting, shooting stuff. Completely different," he remarked with a grin pinching at his lips. Eve smiled and shook her head. "Sarcastic bastard."

"Picky bitch."

She gave him an attempt at attitude for that, and carried on walking, but the stationary archer took her upper arm and turned her to face him in one rapid motion, making her dizzy as she met his chest. His eyes were smiling, but the rest of his face was still and calmly serious. Content was the label she'd put to it.

Then something else dawned on Daryl's face as he looked over her head. Eve turned, and her stomach plummeted. Hundreds of walkers filled every space for what seemed like miles, jamming their path like a traffic jam.

"Shit," Eve murmured, her voice shaking and her arms tense within Daryl's. So he removed them and took her hand, and led her quietly into the woods. Snarls could be heard all around them, but the trees were so thick it was impossible to differentiate earthy shade from earthy, bloody shade.

"We're surrounded," Eve whispered obviously, and Daryl turned and turned, searching desperately for a way out. He took his hand away and scanned the small patch of clearing, prowling like a mad wolf while Eve fingered her blades. He dared a little ways out, and she didn't dare move for fear of being separated.

Behind her, leaves rustled, and snapping, rotten jaws crashed together next to her ear, and a scream escaped her lungs. "Daryl!" Her grip instinctively dug the blade into its stomach.

"Eve!" A blast spattered the walker's head and it fell to the ground, and the resonating gunshot rang out like doomed bells. Daryl's eyes connected with her for only a moment, crossing the 2 meters between them, and suddenly they were surrounded.

He grasped and she grappled for his hand, and they raced and killed their way through the herd, but there were too many. Their hands slipped apart from the blood and sweat, and walkers pushed their ways in from every side. Eve ran and ran and scrambled and brushed passed the trees in a panic, hearing Daryl's heavy paces comfortably close behind, so she ran harder, until the blood in her ears splashed through each pulse and filled her brain with noise.

Engulfed as she was, the opportunity to kill came few, and she made the error of looking round to check for Daryl.

She was met by a sniping, empty eyed face with flesh dropping from its cheeks. Daryl was gone.

When she turned, she ran into a space free of walkers for a few seconds, and she looked around her frantically for Daryl. Tears began to fill her eyes and her breath hitched with each inhale.

A wet hand grabbed her arm, and she spun with relief, but it was just a zombie. She crumbled and plunged her katana into its face, angry and mortified that it wasn't Daryl returning to her. Over and over again, she stabbed and crushed and pulped his face until the fatal organ was open to her, and she fell back onto her legs, kneeling and blood splattered and terrified.


	18. Chapter 18

They were too fast. Too many. Too loud. Packed like sardines in their march to their unknown destination.

"Eve!" Shouted Daryl, lopping off heads and plunging knives into eyes as he went, keeping an eye out for her face with each desperate turn. She was nowhere to be seen, so he continued calling.

He made it through the herd and found himself in a clearing, where a corpse lay dead on the ground, smelling dead too long and its head bashed to a pulp. Daryl once again circled himself for any sign of whoever may have done it. "Eve! Can you hear me?!"

The distant murmur subsided, so he took the chance to smear his arms with the rotten blood, and to brave it back into the chaos. This time he couldn't make a noise. Just be one of them, and hope that she was alive and that she wouldn't mistake him for a zombie would she come across him.

The hoard continued through to the night, lumbering aimlessly and taking Daryl along for the ride like a particle. It drained him, walking so slowly, the only sound of companionship being a senseless snarling or a growl and the shuffling of the leaves beneath their heavy footsteps. Sudden movements would damn him to hell, so all he could do was keep his eyes low and glance around the coming view. The life force felt like it was ebbing away with every dewy cold arm brushing his.

But when her face faded into his mind, those frightened eyes and her matted long hair waving behind her as she ran for cover, it kept him from losing his mind completely. He had a job to do, as she would say.

…

Eve left the walker in a cold haze, despite the warm air and dank stench burning through the atmosphere like clammy morning dew. Finding an opening that seemed to be unoccupied, that's how she found her way back. Back through the forest and back through every tree she'd nearly crashed into, looking a mess with the blood spatter stuck to her like bronze rain droplets. The walkers ignored her this way, deterred by their own stink. Her blades were held close to her sides anyway, frozen safely in her grip. The darkness fell before long, and the deep blue of the forest became all the more terrifying. Navy, cold faces wandering along with nowhere to go, not looking up for bumping into the others. They didn't mind, and with each body she felt against her, nor did she. It would be like being angry at a sack of soggy rice.

By morning, no luck of finding Daryl could be found, and as her tiredness progressed, Eve transitioned into distant and numb to just plain hurting. Hurting because Daryl was gone, and her home was gone, and there was no way out. The tears stung dry at her eyes, but none fell.

Finally they came to an opening, sunlight shining through the trees and reflecting against the green leaves, and Eve took the opportunity to run. Run left up the road, away from the walkers, before they took it to mind. Then she turned left again and made her way back up the road, presumably back the way she came. Every walker had disappeared, and that should have made he relieved. But it only made her wonder where they were heading.

…

The green ended arrow shot straight through the walkers head, and its face was a picture of dumb shock as it stumbled into another walker. Rick shot a look to the wall instinctively to find his friend stood atop it. Alone.

At that moment a small object was hurled into the crowd before him, and a small explosion catapulted bits of skin and flesh every which way. The ones that escaped death endured the blast with indifference. Rick continued to slash and stab his way through to the fence, and attempted to hold it closed. "Daryl! Hold 'em off!"

"Is Eve here?!" He called at once, and Rick sent him a look of anger. "You lost her?!"

The archer shot blasts at every walker he had to shove out of the way and met with the sheriff. Rick stared at him for a long moment. "Get this closed up, one problem at a time."

The tearful man nodded. "Carol! Cover us!"

"Got it!"

Walkers dropped dead around them as Darryl tugged out barbed wire with bloody hands from his pack and sewed the fence back together. "Should hold."

Rick held it together with precaution as another grenade was thrown into the mix, the explosion rattling the wire within his fingers. Walkers tried and tried to break through but the group atop the roof had that covered, too. The ones remaining in the camp were scattered, dead, within minutes.

After that was done, the hole in the fence was reinforced 5 times over by Glenn, and the rest of the group gathered to talk about what would happen next. All except Daryl, who hung back and made his way back on the wall before the road. Rick excused himself and joined his surrogate brother.

"Wanna tell me what happened?"

The archer shrugged, staring down at his fingers. "Damn walker's sons of bitches separated us."

"How long ago?"

"Yesterday morning."

Now Rick understood why Daryl looked the way he did. The under-eye circles and drawn face told him that he'd been looking all night. The stench told him what method he took.

"Maybe she found shelter," Rick offered. Daryl didn't respond straight away. But then he said, "I gotta go back out there."

Rick nodded, momentarily forgetting in the chaos of who was missing.

"Carl and Michonne are gone, Daryl. So looks like im coming with you."

…

It was midday when a gunshot rang out from the woods ahead, and down the lane a skinny figure emerged, stumbling out as a small group of strays followed him. Two, five, twelve of them made their pursuit, and the hatted figure tripped over his own foot and fell back as Eve ran ahead. She looked long at the boys childish face before she realised it was Carl, and she held out her hand to help him back up. They worked together to cut the assailants down.

"Why're you out here?" asked Carl as they slumped on the side of the road. Eve's aching limbs gave and they throbbed with aching. "I could ask the same, Carl."

"I…I was with Michonne."

Eve frowned. "She's lost too?"

He nodded. "We were hunting and… Carol found us."

Eve felt herself grow dizzy as the list went on. Carl, Michonne, Carol…Daryl. All lost.

No, Daryl would be okay. He's had worse, she told herself scornfully. But even her inner voice sounded thick with sadness. "Daryl and I were separated on the run yesterday morning."

The kid looked only a little alarmed at the mention of Daryl's name. "He'll survive. He always does."

Eve smiled. "I needed to hear that."

Carl smiled back at her reassuringly, and they sat there for a little while, just resting. When they were done, they made their way back up the road. Eve felt Carl's eyes on her every so often, and she tried to ignore his questionable gaze.

"What's wrong?"

"Where are we going? Home's back that way."

"Yes, but there's a huge mass of zombies that way and this way I know a place to keep us safe, if for the time being. The others will have gotten away, maybe even found their way back."

"And if they haven't?"

"Then we'll rest, then get back out here and find them. If they did get back, maybe they'll find us."

Carl looked down in doubt. "You sound sure."

She stifled a smile. "Look. You're Dad's gonna be looking for you. If Michonne or Carol get back, they'll know where to look. They'll be better rested."

"What about Daryl? When he's looking for something, he won't stop until he finds it. Knowing him, he'll have gone through the night."

Eve's pulse stuttered as she imagined her Archer, whatever he was to her now, out looking for her through the endless woods. The thought made her feel confused. Like she shouldn't feel happy, but it did make her feel happy. Special, that he would spend such time looking for her.

"Daryl's Daryl. He'll find us." Eve continued to lead the way to the little house she found with Daryl, that he'd found for them, and Carl alternated between long lengths of quiet walking to a question or two to break it up. The last one was, did they reach the supermarket and get the supplies they needed. Eve had forgotten about the lost supplies. "Daryl must have taken them. Or we lost them in the panic, I don't know," she answered honestly. After making a few cuts from the detour they'd taken the previous morning, they were within minutes of the house. The journey had presumably lasted most of the day, judging by the orangey-pink hue of the clouds, so the little bungalow was a welcome site, filled with happy memories for her that couldn't be understood by her companion, and, once inside, Carl found and stared longingly at the bed in one of the two twin bedrooms. Before long, he was passed out upon it and sleeping.

Eve took the sofa after lighting the fire, ash from two nights before still occupying it. Eve thought that maybe this place took maintenance, or no one else knew about it. She thought that pretty incredible.

It wasn't long before she too, was sleeping, her last thoughts about how the sofa smelled so much like the man lounged on it before her, and how deeply she missed him, and that he was okay. That was a given, knowing him.

…

Daryl hated waiting for people. Hated that Rick made him give his word that he'd not just up and leave to look for Eve without him, on the off chance that any of the missing members may return. He couldn't keep still. He sat on the wall, but that only left him with the option of staring out to the lane and hoping that she'd be there. He would prowl and pace the grounds within the complex, but that seemed time wasting and pointless. So he would looked and stared and judged the offending fence that he'd come to despise, and thought about how that piece of trash could be replaced. At that moment, another person slowly made their presence known, and it was Maggie.

"How you holding up?"

He sniffed. "Peachy."

Understanding, she backed away, but her footsteps faded into nothing. She stood, lingering behind him for a while.

"She'll be alright you know, she'll know you're out looking for her."

Guilt filled his chest like a lead balloon, and he resisted the urge to blink away the tear invading his right eye. "Ya'll psychic or something?"

"No. But I know she trusts you to the end of the world."

"How can she? I left her out there."

"No you didn't. You spent all night looking. And she was probably doing to the same."

He shook his head, and just stood as though he was being judged. "Why?"

She hesitated. "Because she loves you, Daryl. Think about that."

As her footsteps trailed away into nothing, Daryl dwelled upon that thought like it was the most important thought in the world. And he couldn't pull himself away from it. He expected Merle's gruff voice to say something horrible and insulting to him, like how Maggie was just a stupid hippy chick with thoughts of romance because there was nothing else, or how his kid brother was just a red neck with nothing to offer. Because it was those times that his elder brother was usually proven wrong, if only in his head. But he didn't need that voice now. Because that wasn't Merle. It was just Daryl's insecurities.

And they had nothing to say.

With that thought, he stood a little straighter, and an idea occurred to him. Something to occupy his wait. Tyreese and Glenn conveniently came into view.

"Glenn! You got those tools?"

Blinking into the sunlight, he shaded his eyes with his hand. "They're in the kitchen, why?"

"Got an idea." He gazed pointedly at the shutter door, now occurring to him to be surplus in present circumstances. Finally, Tyreese and Glenn confirmed with a nod or a, "Oh."

So they worked the whole contraption, frame and all, out of the opening, until there was just an empty hole leading into the former garage. All three of them conveyed it to the centre of the tarmacked grounds, when a tall shadow threw itself on it, skewing everyone's concentration.

"Rick!" Sasha shouted from above, and Daryl looked around, hoping to see Eve. But he didn't. It was Michonne, stood on the wall, waiting. She looked like hell carrying a shopping bag.

"H-hey."

They each placed the door down, but Daryl was first to the scene. "Where's Eve? Did you see Eve?"

Michonne's face fell, confirming his suspicions, but she didn't say a word. Suddenly she glanced behind him, and walked away to Rick and gently pulled him into a hug. They exchanged a few silent words, and then Daryl decided he'd done enough waiting. He left the group where it was and grabbed his bag by the wall, climbed over it and started walking.

"Daryl!"

...

Rick raced after his friend and grabbed him by the arm, pulling to turn him back around. But he resisted. "Let me go, Rick."

"Yeah, I'm going to. But at least wait for me to pack, first," Rick offered breathlessly, keeping an eye on the road ahead while he waited for the man to respond. He did so with a turn of his head, and a nod. "Quick."

Rick jogged back to grab water and weapons and threw them hastily into a bag. Michonne gave him a pregnant look as he passed her toward the wall.

"I wanna come with you." But Rick was already pushing her back. He looked long into her eyes as he said, "You need rest. And Carl's gonna need you, if he finds his way back."

Michonne closed her eyes, and nodded. "Fine. But you…take care." Her hand found itself on his stubbly jaw. He smiled subtly. "Always do."

Once he caught up with Daryl they were in fast pursuit of the end of the lane, Daryl five paces ahead and caught somewhere between a march and a jog. There was truly no stopping him, not even Rick felt he could help. So he thought of Carl, and soon enough Rick was right there next to his desperate second in command. "You got any idea where she might go for safety?"

"I got an idea." He turned right at the T lane and they walked through a bunch of corpses laying in the road. Rick glanced down at them; they'd probably been there two days. Flies buzzed around their already pretty far gone corpses. "You got something to do with that?" He chanced a look at Daryl. He was glancing back at them, and turned his eyes back on the road. "It was her."

"Hmm." Rick had to admit it was impressive for a single-handed job, but he knew Daryl better than that.

…

The trek somehow seemed longer with Rick in tow, and the pensive man tried and tried to offer pieces of comfort in his own way. Comments on how she may have found a hiding place, how she may have tried looking for him herself, how she took down a group of walkers practically lone-wolf style. Daryl knew all that, she was smart enough to find cover. But he knew that Rick was either trying to convince himself of Carl's safety, or he was expecting some reciprocation. Some assurance from a man who didn't have a great track record when it came to bringing kids back home. Maybe he wanted to think that Carl had somehow found his way to Eve, and they were protecting each other. That was a nice, completely unrealistic thought.

Thinking the sun into staying high in the sky seemed to be working, but soon enough the power of thought had to give way, but they persevered. Every now and again guilt would encourage him to take a look at Rick, tired and worn out and looking weaker than ever. His face was thin beneath the cover of his beard, and, with it gone, Daryl wished it would just grow back. His friend's eyes were red and old with the experience of surviving, grey hair combing through. He was aging too fast, and there was only so much he could take.

"Come on," Daryl finally said after a few hours silent walking. "We need to rest." Promptly Rick leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees for a moment. "No. We keep going." He straightened back up and pushed his way passed. "Rick! Stop!"

"No! We cant just leave them out there!" he called back, hauling his duffle bag on his shoulder. Something made Daryl wait, just for a moment. Then it came.

Rick slowed and paused for only a moment, and then he went limp. Then, he fell to the ground like a lifeless sac, his head crashing into the solid road. Jogging up to him, Daryl quickly checked his pulse and found it still working, working too fast. "Shit, Rick." He took his arm and dragged him to his feet and dragged him to the side of the road. "Dumb bastard," he murmured as he lay him down on a small incline out of the sun, just as it began edging behind the trees. He got to work setting up a small area, cordoning themselves off with rattling plates, and sat next to the sleeping body. He could do nothing else.


	19. Chapter 19

It was a long night. The trees stood close behind, while keeping their distance, like keen onlookers daring the living to sleep while they concealed the dead. The moon hung high like an eye, observing the happenings below, not able to do a thing. The road stretched far either side, taunting Daryl that he wasn't able to take either just yet, because his friend was still sleeping. Still overrun like an overused car.

Now and again the tiredness and the darkness surrounding him would threaten him like death, and he caught himself before his eyes closed for more than a second. His crossbow was in his lap, and each time he nearly dropped off, he jumped and raised it in a short, swift movement.

Rick was snoring gently now, and that made Daryl relieved that he was still audibly breathing. It was just like he was taking an ordinary nap, not that he passed out on the road just hours before. Thinking of it that way almost made him forget that the journey to find Eve would no doubt take longer; He'd have to either wait for Rick, or take him back. There was no third option.

But by daybreak, the reality had changed. Daryl woke and cursed himself for sleeping, and saw that the man with him had gone. No, not gone. Relocated. Instead of lying dormant, he was sat on the other side of the road, sipping a small bottle of water. This made Daryl angry, and he sat up to stare.

"Morning," said Rick in a gruff morning voice. As though nothing had happened. Then he stood and grabbed his pack, and turned to look at the road ahead. "Come on, best get moving."

Then he started walking, and Daryl was scrambling to get his things together and in the bag to catch up. "Hey! The hells going on?"

Rick turned slowly, making Daryl's blood boil. "What?"

"You were passed out on the damn road like a sack of shit hours ago, you ain't going nowhere!"

"I'm going to find my son, Daryl. That was nothing."

The man approached him shaking his head in anger. "If it happens again. Trust me, you aint going no further." He pushed passed him and lead the way ahead to where they might find one of the missing party.

…

Despite missing a night of sleep to wander around with zombies, actually sleeping wasn't easy. All through the night, Eve would wake to the sound of shuffling or snarling or growling or the snapping of jaws, and instantly she would sit up and look for a blunt object. But the room was dark, the door was shut. The windows were intact, and her only company was fast asleep in the other room. Finally, she chose to sit up, and stare at the simmering wood in the fire place as it smoked, and envisioned Daryl on the other side, like he had been on other occasions. She felt the need to say something directed to him, to assure him or tell him something meaningful, like he was actually there.

When morning rose, she and Carl made the decision to stay over the dinner table and a bowl of shelled nuts. He ate away like it was a normal breakfast, and it made her slightly guilty. Guilty, because the authority on him was as big for him as the hat on his head, but he couldn't shake it. He was his father's son, alright. But, as previously thought, he wasn't a kid. He'd had to skip that part to keep himself and other's safe. He didn't even seem bothered by the attack a day before.

"So, how do you know about this place? You still didn't answer that."

Eve looked down at her bowl. "On the run, Daryl tracked it and we stayed for the night."

His eyes shifted beneath his hair. "So he knew about it before?"

"Yes."

Carl nodded thoughtfully. "I hope my dad didn't come with him," said the boy, with some hesitation. "but I know he has."

"Why do you say that?"

The boy shrugged. "He's old. When he found my mom and I, he'd just woken up from a coma and had no idea what had happened. That was a couple of years ago, when he was…its like he's aged ten years in three."

Eve looked and listened kindly. "A lot has happened, Carl. Everyone is older than they're supposed to be. Doesn't mean they're weaker. Especially when it comes to those they love."

"But he is weaker, though, and I don't want him killing himself just to find me."

It obvious then why he was the way he was. He was turning into his dad, a kid shaped by the apocalypse, because his dad, in his eyes, was expiring. Who would be the new leader when Rick wasn't able to do it?

"Carl, Rick is a stubborn man. Everyone in this group is. They wouldn't be around if they weren't. Look, what has he survived in the last few years?"

Cark stared long and thoughtfully into Eve's eyes then, and then quiet relief dawned onto his face.

"He was in a coma, right? And still he woke from it to get you and keep you safe."

He nodded gently. "I guess."

Eve smiled triumphantly. "And of course Daryl's gonna be with him, and you know what he's like."

Finally, the boy laughed. "So, what are we gonna do while we wait?"

"Well, I can't imagine it'll be long."

Carl stared long at the book case, across the room, and then his eyes fell to a small pile of board games. Eve thought it was endearing, how he still managed to keep that part of him. "Go on, pick one."

…

Daryl eventually found the two trails of his and Eve's footsteps hidden slightly by some leaves and uprooted soil. "Here!" he shouted to Rick, who was trailing close behind. The look on his face was of eagerness marred by reservation. They'd not spoken for the entire morning, and in that time Daryl retreated into his guilty bubble and let the fact that he'd not long told his best friend and brother that he'd leave him would he collapse again. He'd told him that while he was searching for his son, who was quite possibly dead. That train of thought brought him to a sickening realisation that Eve could be dead, too, and that spurred him on even harder. Rick was stood at his side, waiting while the tracker worked and inched his steps alongside. A frown settled on his face as he caught sight of them.

"Whats up?"

Daryl shook his head, and glanced through the trees before him. "Fresh tracks."

They both crouched down to observe them, and Daryl couldn't believe it.

"Eve…and Carl. They both went this way." Rick's breath became quietly choked. When he looked, the man was tearing up. Daryl himself was caught somewhere between unbelievable relief and _How the fuck did that happen. _He went on a little ways to make sure, and his certainty grew.

"Rick! This way!" He turned to see him, and saw that a walker was close behind his friend. A small child, skinny and tattered, aimed for the man's unguarded hand. Before anyone could do anything, a tiny bite was taken out of the side. Rick stared down slowly at it like he'd been stung by a bee.

"Rick!"

Daryl aimed the crossbow at the child and killed it with a straight headshot, and ran to his friend's aid. Blood was pouring down his left hand as he gripped it tightly.

His face was white as a sheet. "Cut it off….Quick!"

Daryl's body shut down for a moment as he took it in. Rick was bitten. Rick was bitten. He would die…

"Daryl!"

In an instant Daryl tore the sleeve of his shirt off and wrapped it round Rick's wrist.

"No. Higher." His voice was shaking violently. Daryl shifted it higher. They both crouched down as Daryl found the red handled machete in Rick's duffle bag. He held it over the mark for a moment. "Go! Quick!"

Looking into to the blood shot eyes of his friend, he silently apologised. He thrashed the blade down in one sharp motion.

…

The noise the machete made was one that would ring in his mind forever. The shock of it making contact with his own flesh for the first time would be in his mind forever. The sight of the hacked-off hand, lay still and loosely gripped, would stay in his mind. Forever. But there was no pain. Not yet. He knew there would be. He dreaded it. Or he knew he ought to dread it. But all that was his mind then was drained and swallowed by white noise, his vision too bright and unfocused. Daryl was making a face that his brain should have identified as panic, or urgency. But it didn't. That part of him was gone now, at least for a while.

Rick's vision went dark very gradually, so gradually that he didn't even notice until it was pitch black.

…

_Shit. Shitshitshitshit Rick. _The man was lay passed out on the leaves, his bloodied stump of an arm beneath his weight. Maybe that would stunt the bleeding the tourniquet wasn't able to. He only knew, though, that he had to get him somewhere quick. Daryl's brain went blank as he paced and spread his hands over his head in panic. Rick was going to die if he didn't save him. That was all that was important. He couldn't lose another brother.

A manic, quite laugh erupted from his lungs, of how similar the situations were. Of how they mirrored each other. Merle, losing his hand because of Rick. Rick, losing his hand because of a walker. A walker neither saw because they were too distracted by tracks.

Tracks.

The house.

Stopping in his tracks, he took one look around himself, and instantly recognised the area. When he and Eve passed through, the house was no more than 20 minutes from the small shrub up ahead. Finally his mind was working again. He had to get to that house. But the problem of that was out a couple feet behind, dead weight. He couldn't risk getting help, he had no idea whether…no. She was there. She had to be.

Daryl made his way to Rick and lifted him up, slinging one arm over his shoulder and holding him up by his side. He took the duffle bag, leaving the red handled machete and zombie hand, and lumbered ahead. It would take a hell of a lot longer like this, but he was going somewhere.

…

The day was beautiful, and the heat was making the little wooden house so unbearable, that the place for a board gaming session was on the porch. Every now and again, Eve would take her mind from the game and just look out and around, consciously relishing and unconsciously hoping to see a dark figure emerge to find them. But then she just found a border of trees, land, and flowers. Flowers alive enough to convince her that the world still had life in it, buried not too far from the surface. Flowers had never meant so much to her before.

Carl would do his bouts of silent thoughtfulness or pensiveness, and it was obvious he was worrying. About what they spoke about earlier. But it was now an accepted thought that his father would be looking for his son, and no danger he ran into would stop him. He was a tough son of a bitch.

Cards and monopoly wore most of the morning away, and ran into the afternoon. It was intense. But then they were interrupted by a movement in Carl's periphery. "Eve." He cocked his head to the side.

A walker, followed by another, followed by another. Eve shook her head. "Fantastic." She stood on her numb feet and found her way to her katana, resting on the back of the door. Carl was heard shifting to his feet, a handgun by his side.

But when they went out, more walkers found their way in, and Carl swapped his gun for a blade to make for a noiseless kill. They must have killed about 10, but they kept coming. They were drawing the pair back to the house. So they returned to the porch and killed any that got too close.

But one found his way around to other side of the house, taking them by surprise. "Eve!" Carl shouted, but the walker had her pins to the post, grating it into her spine. "Carl, stay back." But her katana fell from her sweaty hand, and Carl's distraction caused a swarm to invade the porch, separating them. Eve clawed with her hands at the walkers face, and her fingers plunged into it's eye sockets. Stunted, it fell from her. Just then, as Carl began disappearing into the crowd, a gunshot rung out. A splatter was heard, and a thud shook the wooden floor beneath her feet. The origin was too distant to be Carl.

Eve took her blade from the floor and took all the ones down from the porch, finding her way to Carl and together, they fought their way through the rest. Then Eve began hearing the gunshots again, and this time, stopped only enough time to hear them. All other sound filtered around her ears until they found those gunshots.

The next one made her jump out of her skin. Her eyes flared and scanned the trees desperately. Another bang, and her attention was snatched to the origin. Two men. Side by side. One carrying the other.

Rick. Draped over Daryl's shoulder.

Daryl. But he couldn't see her. The shot gun was held in front of him with his free arm.

The men before her slowed their already gradual pace, one firing away the best her could with the weight of the body disabling him.

…

"D-Daryl…eeeeeeve….." Rick's gravely voice mumbled. His bony finger rose unsteadily, pointing to a place beyond the outstretched gun. Daryl looked down at him, amazed that he was already coming around. "Huh?!" He glanced back at the crowd. "I cant-" A wide brimmed hat came into view.

No. It couldn't be.

Then he glimpsed it again. Then he saw what Rick must have been motioning to. His instincts flared and exploded within him.

Rick continued to murmur and grumble next to him, and Daryl could only make out a select few words. _Go, Eve, I need…rest. _The archer stared long at his friend's expression before he made his decision. "I'll be one minute. Tops." He assured Rick as he gently lowered him to the grass, shoving a pistol in his hand. "Anything happens, call for help." He swung his crossbow round into his familiar arms and began shooting as he pursued the little house with real speed. He began calling out to attract the walkers away from what and who needed rescuing. "Yeah over here! Come on! Over here you zombie bastards." A couple interrupted him, so he bashed them and punched them away with his elbows and fists, resuming his focus. "Eve! You there?"

He continued to shoot and batter until her heard her shrill voice. "Daryl! Ive got Carl." The slicing, vicious sound of her blade in action made him smile, and her voice made him forget that he'd ever been separated. "Carl! You alright!"

Carl didn't answer, but he emerged from the walkers as he shot them down and pushed them out of his way. The kid gave him a long stare. "Dad come with you?" The tone in his voice said _please say no. _Daryl nodded his head, looking down darkly at the kid. He motioned back with his head. "Back there." Carl found the spot Daryl was motioning to, and ran passed him with tremendous speed. He looked down at the grass for a moment, unsure of how the kid would take it, his father's current state.

Then he came to reality, and noticed the walkers had stopped making sounds. Looking round himself, he saw each and every one, dead on the ground. Corpses leading up the steps. A clanging of metal snatched his eyes away, and at the top of the steps he saw her.

…

The gaze he gave her was long, still, and one that made her stomach flutter. Or maybe that was just the fact that he was there. Looking beaten and battered, his bare arms smeared with dirt and blood. Someone elses blood, she hoped. His crossbow was braced, unweathering, in his hands, still prepared for a kill. Eve looked around herself, and smiled. "Hey."

Her voice seemed to break him from his trance, and the bow fell from his hands. In one moment, he went from being several paces from her to around her, taking her in his arms and squeezing her so tightly she thought he might leave a dent. She grinned, uncontainable, reunited with him at last, relishing the feel of his lips on her neck as he breathed heavily with relief. "Shh…its okay…you found me."

He remained speechless for a small while, just holding her tightly, and she had no care in the world for anything else. But of course. Something interrupted.

"Help! Daryl! Eve! Quick…its Dad!"

They broke apart and looked to the direction of the voice, and Eve feared the worst. Rick. A walker. That would break them. That would break their hearts.

But Carl was stood over his father when they got to them, Rick's frame passed out, face down in the grass and soil. Eve crouched down and checked his pulse. "Its racing," she informed them, making eye contact with Daryl's sharp eyes. They were straining down, like he was looking at something he didn't want to see, but was forcing himself to. Then she said, "Help me lift him up." But Daryl took him up in one lithe movement and carried him over his shoulder to the house. Eve hesitated, and it seemed Carl was just as reluctant to follow. She turned to him. "He'll be okay, its just the heat."

The young man's eyes were tearful, and he turned his face to see her. "Didn't…didn't you see his…."

A tear rolled down his cheek, and he wiped it away hastily, shoving his hands to cross together.

"Come on. He'll need you." Eve placed a hand on his back and gently pushed him in the direction to the house. They stepped over the bodies like they weren't there, but sooner or later they would need to be dealt with. Through the open door they witnessed Daryl lay his friend on the sofa. He was silent as he disappeared into the bathroom and came back with towels.

"What happened?" Eve asked gently, crouching next to him as he sat in the nearby arm chair. He began chewing his thumb nail, completely lost looking. "Walker." Alarm bells rang out in Eve's ears, and she went to check Rick's temperature. Placing a hand on his forehead, she frowned. "It's not high enough. You sure?"

Instead of answering verbally, Daryl lifted himself from the chair and crouched beside her. He took his arm from beneath his back, and revealed the bloody mess that used to be connected to a hand. Eve felt the urge to retch, and covered her mouth desperately.

"You let a walker get to him?!" They both turned to see Carl's dark shadow in the doorway against the sun. His arms were braced to his sides in anger. "How could you let that happen?!"

"Carl, please-"

"No! I told you! I told you, he shouldn't have come looking for me!"

Eve felt hands gently slide her to the side, and Daryl rounded her to confront Carl. "Your dad, he refused to stay. I couldn't've stopped him if I tried."

"Then you should've tried," retorted Carl coldly. He looked down at his lifeless father with disdain and disappointment, so much so that Eve felt anger at him. No child should see their parent in such light, and Eve had to choke back the tears as she watched the boy she'd come to know disappear behind a mask of iciness. Daryl hung before her like a beaten man, heavy with guilt. Eve chose to intervene. "Carl. He's alive. Isnt that enough?"

Ever so slowly, his eyes rose to hers. "You call this 'alive'?"

Eve blinked and watched as he turned and closed the door behind him silently, shutting them away.

…

The world felt heavy. Oppressive on his shoulders, his head, his being. He felt Eve watch him and glance when she wasn't, probably hoping he'd say something. Truth was, finding her made him forget that Rick was the one in danger, close to death, dying. Their reunion distracted him from helping his brother, caught him off guard. And now, he was still passed out on the sofa with no hand, no chances.

Eve tried to help when she could, and it broke his heart when she did. It was so tempting to just carry her away every time she carried over a fresh jug of hot water to sterilise the wound, when she alternated between cleaning Rick up and sneaking a wash cloth onto him, cleaning the dirt away, bit by bit. It made his resolve all the more delicate, until it became a small rain drop in the palm of his hand, just about to drop to the floor and smash.

The night drew in, and finally, Carl returned. The door opened, so slowly, revealing the sheepish boy, and he trudged into the house with as little sound as possible. Two sets of eyes watched him as he retrieved his messenger bag, taking out a bottle of water, and lifted it to his father's lips as he sat in the floor next to him. Daryl felt Eve's eyes on the back of his head before her small hand placed itself on his neck, stroking gently in a way that said, _lets leave them to it._

…

Daryl closed the door behind himself, shutting them both in the room as Eve lit the gaslight. "Think he'll be alright?"

"I don't know. What do you think?"

Turning the little knob on the side of the lamp until the room was sufficiently lit, she stood straight and sighed. "I think you need to stop soaking up the guilt and leaving out room for self pride." When she turned she found him leaning back on the door, arms folded, looking brooding and distant and stupidly sexy. Her heart raced, and the blood shot to her face. This wasn't the time. To busy herself, she got to shifting their things to one side of the room, having transported them in there a few minutes before Carl returned. Something clattered in there, delicate sounding. When she listened closer, which wasn't difficult in a room where the only other occupant was forcing himself not to breathe too loudly, she realised the bag was quietly ticking. Eve looked up to the man, stunned. "You kept it?"

He shrugged, suddenly shy and adorable and still, brooding and distant. Looking back to the bag, she reached in and removed the little clock, eyeing it fondly.

"It was mine…when I was a baby. You know, it stopped working years ago, and I never even tried to get it working." Eve lifted herself on the corner of the bed, watching the second hand move by. "Then, on the day I left for work, I found it in my bag. Guess my sister snuck it in to be funny. And it started working again. Know what day that was?"

Daryl was making his way over to her when she lifted her eyes, and placed himself by her side. "I can guess."

Eve smiled into this eyes as she nodded. "They told everyone to stay where they were, in their homes, find any secure building if they were out on the street. Wait it out. It would be over in a few hours." The sounds of sirens and intercoms and sullen voices of the news reporters frightened her in the way a child would be if they'd been caught in their first storm. "You know, I always had a fear that the world would end, and I always thought that they worst way would be this. To kill it's people and then the planet, slowly. But it isn't, is it?"

She looked once again to Daryl, who was watching her as she spoke. "Because…people are still living. Still getting by. Trying. Finding each other. This way…we have a chance to come back from it. Right?"

When she stopped talking, the room felt so silent, so still, so…ambiguous. Like the atmosphere was yet to be set. Like the dust was suspended in the air, waiting to settle. The archer's eyes were keen on hers, like they held an answer he couldn't find yet, so he quizzed them. "What happened to your family?" Was all he asked. Eve felt that dull stab of pain in her chest. She said, "I don't know. I've never been able to reach them."

He seemed unknowing what to say then, so Eve leaned onto his shoulder, still clutching the little bear. "Thank you for finding us." She felt his chin lower into her hair, kissing it lightly. Then he slowly lay on his back, straightening himself so he was straight on the bed, resting on arm behind his head. Eve nervously looked down at him, when he sat up again, grabbing her face, and bringing it to his. The kiss was slow and reserved at first, but then the world seemed to collapse as soon as his hands found their way into her hair, and her hands were on his neck, feeling the heat of the blood pulsing through his veins. The longing she felt from him felt so familiar, fitting with hers like a jigsaw, and he lay back, taking her with him, and guided her next to him. He propped himself up on his elbow to gaze down at her with those piercing eyes, so bright and dark at the same time, and she felt herself fall into them, and again their lips met, desperate and filled with so much that couldn't be said.


	20. Chapter 20

_Knock knock_

"Guys. My dad's awake."

Eve rubbed the sleep from her eyes and reached over the sleeping man for the clock on the bedside. "6 15," she groaned, and fell back on her back to stare at the ceiling. "Come on," she whispered. "Can't stay in here forever."

He mumbled something incoherent into the pillow, and his eye forced itself open to see her. "Shut up." He countered his words by shuffling closer, and for a moment Eve wished to leave him to it. But Rick was awake. They'd waited two days for this moment, and now that it was here, it came at a bad moment. Not the worst, but still. Eve climbed out and began getting dressed. "We'll be right out," she called out to Carl, but not before smiling down at the stubborn Daryl, who'd followed her with his eyes, kissing him swiftly on his shoulder blade, and throwing his clothes at him. "Come on. He's awake. You should be eager to get moving."

"This is a cosy bed."

"Is that a refusal?"

He thought, and nodded.

"Fine. But two minutes and expect a bucket of water I do not want to waste."

Eve left as he slowly rolled out, and was surprised to see Rick sitting up, sipping a cup of water between his hand and what used to be on his other arm, now a bandaged stump that needed redressing. She felt nervous and awkward approaching him, not knowing what to say in the situation. His low eyes looked deep into the cup he was drinking from, but he knew she was there.

The seat next to him was free, so she sat next to him, giving him a wide birth as she asked, "How're you doing?" Her eyes glanced into the kitchen, looking for a clattering that turned out to be Carl. He peered at her through his hair with tired, weary eyes. Rick began speaking, or rather, attempted to speak, his throat raw and dry from lack of use. "I'...im…fine."

Eve nodded understandingly as Daryl joined them, hovering in the door way. Rick looked up and nodded shakily, avoiding his eyes, clearly traumatised.

"Hey man."

"Hey." His voice was so low it almost disappeared into the quietness of the room. Carl entered the living room, sat on the table, and gave his father a bowl of something sloppy looking. "Take it. It's porridge."

"Where'd you find that?" Rick asked wearily, eyeing it reluctantly. Carl pushed it forward. "The cupboard. You need something that's not gonna irritate your throat too much. Take it."

He took it. "How'd you get so smart," he commented humourlessly, and Eve could see why as she observed the bittersweet exchange. Rick, their leader, Carl's father, was now being taken care of. He wasn't happy about that, but what other choice did he have? Once he finished his breakfast, he began to stand, and Carl rushed to his aid. "No, you're not strong enough yet."

"Carl, im fine. Just need to stretch." He began wandering about the room, looking and acting lost. "Where are we?" He looked to Daryl for the answer, who was now sat on the arm of Eve's chair, folding his arms in a business-like way. "A house, few miles from the facility." Rick nodded uncertainly, and began examining his covered wound. "How'd this happen?"

Eve sighed sadly. She knew that Daryl wouldn't like to retell the story, and Carl wouldn't like to hear it again. As for Rick, she predicted he'd just feel guilt and shame for being so careless. Either that or blame Daryl for distracting him. But she chose to speak up when everyone else hesitated. "Daryl and you found the tracks to the house. You were…distracted, and a walker bit your hand. Daryl had to remove it."

He began shaking his head. "I need to change the dressing."

"I'll do it," offered Carl, but Rick swiftly disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. The occupants of the room exchanged awkward looks. Carl looked the most concerned, because he had a way of hiding it with a forced calm expression. He'd just not got it down yet. Daryl looked…just pensive. Always the way with Daryl. Eve sometimes wished to know what bees were buzzing about in his bonnet in a moment, and it was one of those moments. She nudged him gently, and gave him a reassuring gaze. "He'll be fine…he's a stubborn bastard," she whispered, just loud enough for Carl to hear it from the middle of the room, which wasn't difficult considering the deathly silence. A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened, and a pale and sweaty Rick emerged, who lumbered straight to the table and chairs. Carl resisted his attempts to stop him from helping pull out the chair, and after a few awkward struggles between hands and avoidant eyes, his father finally gave in and sat down. His son took the chair next to him, and Rick revealed the first aid kit in his shaking hand. He placed it on the table with a silent plea. It became apparent then, as the onlookers watched, that Rick wasn't able to change the dressing himself. The blooded bandage was half hanging off, fresh blood darkening his sleeve. Eve looked away as the kid got to work on his father's latest wound, feeling suddenly out of place and unwelcome.

"Come on," said the voice next to her, and he quietly took her elbow, leading her from the scene. Once she was outside, the atmosphere evaporated from her like dew. The sunlight threw morning rays every which way across the grass, temporarily blinding, and then it cleared like mist before her eyes. When they were all the way cleared, Daryl came into view, his hair brown and shiny and his eyes bright blue and staring at her, his feet wearily paused half way down the steps. Eve took his hand and they walked away from the house into the field, heading nowhere in particular. Just placing one foot ahead of the other, feeling the grass making little snipes at her ankles through the fabric of her leggings and the archer's rough fingers grazing her knuckles. Giving one glance back at the house, she followed her way back and found his face watching her, and she sent him a withering look. "Just wondering how they're getting along."

"Like they always have. Carl's a strong kid, he's suffered worse."

"But you don't know how much bad stuff a kid can take before he flips. He can't just soak it up like a sponge and let it out to make room."

Eve met his eyes again, not realising she'd looked away, and found questioning on his brow. "I think it's too late for any 'letting out'. Kid's killed people. Killed his mom. Aint nothing left for this world to take."

"Except his dad," Eve added. She waited for Daryl to nod, and looked back to the ground as they covered it.

Then he said, "Kinda got me thinking of Merle." Eve looked up to him, and didn't stop as she approached the subject wearily. "Your brother?"

"Yeah." He squeezed her hand a little tighter, and it hurt. Not the action, just the thought of him, thinking of his brother, the man and all the family he had left, the man he had to kill. All Eve knew of him was that he was an asshole who'd lost his hand. A description courtesy of his gracious little brother. "The first time I met Rick, I wanted to kick his ass for leaving him handcuffed to a roof in Atlanta. Left him for dead, and when we went back, he was gone. Severed hand on the ground."

Eve found his train of thought, but couldn't believe he'd make it to what she was thinking until she'd processed that. Merle was an asshole. Of course Rick would leave him on the roof, if he had good reason. "You think it's karma that Rick lost his hand?"

His profile bowed only a little, clashing with the rays and creating fresh ones behind him, like a spiky halo to match his dishevelled angel wings. With his voice low with guilt, he said, "Merle was a dick with no care for anyone else but himself. He was meant to stay that way, and when he tried to make up for it, he got himself turned into a walking piece of shit."

The pair slowed to a natural stop, and Eve realised they'd rounded up on themselves, and they were now facing the opposite direction, the house. It was still a pretty distance away, and they didn't start walking again. Eve took the time to just gaze at him, all the memories of his brother and his survival and his morality and guilt showing in his expression like a tattoo, and he looked fallen. Eve resisted the urge to just take him in her arms for a moment, just to make him feel like he wasn't alone. Then she realised that their new situation left no room for that awkwardness, and folded her arms around his arm, closing her eyes to the feel of his head resting on hers. "Things happen in this world now, and they don't happen for any good or bad reason. They just happen, and we find patterns to- I don't know, remember that part of our humanity. What you're feeling, it ain't bad. It's the part of you that makes you living. Not just surviving."

Daryl presumably thought about that for a second, and Eve just allowed herself to close her eyes and take in the scent and the sounds of the life around her. There were actually birds, and insects. The heat gave off a rich earthy smell, and the trees gave to the wind, allowing their leaves to rustle lightly. Daryl interrupted her reverie by saying, "Bet you wrote poetry in another life."

Eve grinned beneath her hair. "Bet you're just saying that because you know im right, and have nothing as beautiful to say."

"Aint nothing I gotta say beautiful, psycho." He rounded up on her and closed the distance left between them. Eve's breath caught. "Aint nothing much beautiful left in the world, Daryl Dixon."

He hovered, looking away and searching for inspiration. His eyes came back to her. "There's a couple things." Eve thought she would grin and blush insanely and comment on the cheesiness of the comment, but she didn't. Nothing came out but a racing of her pulse and an overwhelming sense of something neither sad nor happy, not felt in her but inside and out, taking her off guard and making her dizzy. It only lasted a second, and it left her with the urge to cry for no apparent reason. When it washed over, the world was black, and she opened her eyes without realising she'd closed them at all. The only thing she wanted to see was his face, and she knew there and then that she'd miss it every single day she was away from him. She made a silent vow that it wouldn't happen, closing her eyes again, and, without opening them, she whispered, "I do love you, Daryl Dixon." It felt like taking a long needed breath saying it, like a weight was lifted from her chest. It came out with a confidence, because she didn't need to hear him say it. Didn't mean she didn't want to hear it.

Before she had chance to lift her eyelids, his lips met with her forehead, her cheek, her lips, in such a slow and brief and tender way, there was nothing else in them except what she wanted to hear him say.

"I love you." He lowered his face and his forehead rolled and kneeded against hers wantingly, restlessly. The words seemed to settle something into Eve's stomach, while causing a frenzy she felt all too familiar with. This time, like so often happened during these sweet moments, nothing interrupted. The world left them to just be for a little while longer.


	21. Chapter 21

There was no stopping Rick, not when he decided on something. When he was decided, it was final. It was to be done. No questions asked, no delay allowed, nothing else to say. That meant that when he declared that it was time to move on, by which time the wound had started to heal and any sign of infection was gone, they packed up and moved on. They understood, each and every one of them; he wanted home. He wanted security. His family. In the cottage, he was an invalid keeping them anchored. When his feet were moving over tarmac and grass and soil, Rick was constructive. He was going somewhere. He was the leader.

As for the hand, sometimes he would think it was still there. He could swear that he felt it itch, and he would go to scratch it. Or feel a twig brush against it. Phantom limb, that's what it was called, the sensation of thinking a severed appendage was still attached. With each discovery when he went to tend to it, he felt his ghost knit another loss onto itself, always with him and building a new defence. Already haunting the world, haunting him.

Then the road began to turn, and he began to recognise the trees, the ground, like natural landmarks. Before long, they were climbing over the corpses Daryl had told him about. About how Eve had taken them down. Now, his former disbelief felt like a foolish arrogance. Looking at Eve, how she had worked with Carl to kill the group at the house, the walkers seemed like a fickle attack against a girl more than capable of twice that.

Everyone seemed much stronger than he presently felt.

Then they rounded again, and a sensation of relief so painful washed over him like a wave of ice cold water. The wall, still there. The complex, the facility. A figure on watch. It was all there, right where it was supposed to be. Basked in orange sunset, welcoming them home. A hand patted him on the back, and to his side was his hatted son, a smile on his face as he looked up to him. "We're home."

Rick nodded, placing his hand on Carl's elbow, and together they made their way ahead, leaving the ones hesitating behind.

…

Eve stood for a moment, hesitation blocking her feet from moving a step further. The longer she looked at the building ahead of them, the sihloettes of her companions breaking and threatening her attention, the longer it took for the supposed relieved sensation of home to fill her. It wouldn't come, no matter how much she pressed. One of the figures ahead, the closest one to her, stopped, and turned in the deepening orange sunset.

"Something wrong?" asked Daryl quietly. His arm shifted, and his hand laid quietly for his bow, and the light flickered in his eyes as he looked around them. Eve shook her head lightly. "Not a walker. Just…I don't know." She couldn't quite put it into words. Either that, or, for some reason, she would feel guilty for saying it. But the look his face sent her pressed for information in a way that only a look from Daryl could, and she felt her shoulders slouch in defeat. "I just….im just waiting to feel it. Feel like im back home."

Even though that wasn't quite enough to clarify the feeling verbally, she didn't want to say much more. And Daryl, quietly assertive as he was, said no more on the subject. Instead, he held out his hand and shifted a little closer, like approaching a wild dog he wanted to tame.

The welcome party was enthusiastic to see us. Rick and Carl were already united with baby Judith, chatting with Maggie and Glenn, while the rest hung back or hugged us or did both. It appeared that not much fuss was being made about Rick, until it was realised that he was concealing his injury in his jacket pocket. As Eve glanced about the complex, two things became apparent. One, theyd been busy, and finally made the opening into the woods as safe as it could be with the shutter door filling the gap. Two, a face was missing. It was ever so obvious when, in a small group, a family was incomplete, and soon enough, Rick realised, too.

"Where's Michonne?" he asked Carol, his daughter being taken gently by her brother. He took her away as Carol and his father had a private chat. In this time, Maggie had spotted her and given her a tight hug, relief flowing into her like it was her own. "Thank god!" she gushed, "I knew you were safe. What happened?"

Eve sighed in smiles and exhaustion and just told her they'd be talking to the group together. Her friend nodded in acceptance, tucking her short hair behind her ear. "I knew he'd find you," she said suggestively, and Eve instinctively glanced around for said _him_. He was with Rick and Carol, throwing a look back her way every so often. She smiled on queue. "Uh huh," she murmered, her voice trailing off, and then said, "So, where is Michonne anyway?"

"Out looking for y'all. Well, Carl."

"Really? How long for?"

Maggie looked dark. "Since Daryl and Rick left. Daryl came thinking you'd be here and then went off in a rush. Seemed like to him, you were the priority. Michonne panicked and went after Carl. Aint seen her since."

Dark concern grew within, and a considerable amount of guilt. Eve admitted, "Carl and I found each other on the second day. Went back to a house Daryl and I found on the run. They…they found us there."

Maggie's wide eyes strained themselves as she rushed a smile after too long staring, causing wrinkles around them. "Well, im betting she's following the track right now. Wont be too long."

…

A minute later everyone was in the kitchen, and there it was announced what happened. Of course, none of it was essential to the group, except for one thing. The fact that their leader was, now, compromised in his ability to defend. Not incapable, but he could present an issue. The reveal came when Rick had finished the short version of what went down, and stopped when quizzed on details. Carl stood in his place while Rick sat on a barrel made during the week, and Eve couldn't help but notice the shift. She connected her eyes with Daryl next to her, a fleeting glance that filled itself with questions, and in his eyes she saw the same thing. Concern, disturbance, anxiety. A shift. A shift of who was strongest, who was best for leading the group. All eyes were on the 14 year old kid in the centre of the make shift circle, preparing to break the news.

He took a deep breath, and opened his lips. "Daryl and…and my dad, they found Eve and I in a house." That was in answer to how we were found by the pair. Then, Abraham chucked out another question. "And what took y'all so long to get back, huh? 'Cause we aint waiting much longer before we start walking to Washington," he announced threateningly. Eugene sat with his back resting on the wall, staring into the gaslight at Carl's feet. Carl hesitated, and sent a reassuring look to his dad. "We had to stay at the house for a couple of days-"

"We ran into some trouble," Rick broke in, standing once again and patting his son's shoulder, signalling for him to take a seat. When he was once again the centre of everyone's focus, he slid his shaking arm from his pocket, his forehead glistening with sweat. It took a few moments for it to register, because no one made a noise. And then Abraham bowed his ginger head. Maggie began crying quietly. Glenn rubbed her back while shaking his head in denial, as though the worst had happened. Carol stood in the doorway where the shutter once was, her head low and her face shaking, like it was holding back the emotion. Tyreese, Sasha, Tara, Rosita, and Bob blended into a sea of distraught faces.

"Now," Rick began, breaking the insufferable silence, "it aint as bad as it looks. I can still shoot, I can still help out. Nothing needs to change."

"But Rick," Maggie broke out, "how did it happen?"

"A walker bite," he said. "Daryl saved my life," he added, sending a peripheral look to his brother. "Then we found Eve and Carl."

Rick's head pivoted from left to right, checking all the expressions around him. The atmosphere was awkward as hell, too quiet, just plain miserable. Like all the morale of the group was manifested in the leader's hand being attached to him. Eve felt Daryl's arm shift beside her, and he squeezed her hand once before letting go, standing before the large group. They each eyed him with something questionable, barely any goodness. Eve knew why. Because of him, Rick was out there, and, because of him, Rick had no hand. Daryl saw it that way, and he probably had that guilt bounced back to him through each eye like light rays. Only three knew the truth, truly.

The archer stood by his friend, and stood straight, looking out of place as a public speaker. "I know, I know we're all in a shitty place. What happened to Rick…no one could see that coming. We were distracted, and that…that was my fault. But that aint saying its ended…Y'all looking like weve lost, like we aint got other shit to worry about, like we aint been through worse. Maggie," he said suddenly, his dark voice unusually coherent and a little shaky, gesturing towards her, "Hershal, your dad, he lost a leg. That never stopped him from helping Rick out, huh?"

"Daryl's right," Carol announced from her short distance away. "We've been through worse."

Dark memories manifested on some of the faces around them, and Eve chose her time to stand next to her archer. He took her in and wearily put his arm across her shoulders while everyone was talking amongst themselves, and she whispered in his ear, "I'm so proud of you." He kissed her forehead gently.

….

During the night, the group dwindled as people retired to bed. First Sasha and Bob, then Tyreese and Tara went on watch, then Abraham and Sasha, and Carl took Judith, leaving Rick, Carol, Daryl, Eve, Maggie and Glenn. It was now obvious to the group that Daryl and Eve were a couple, and they gradually became used to it. The later it became, the conversation died down and they just stayed, sat, whether in a chair or on a crate or on the floor, drinking wine from the convenience store stock room. The sourness of it didn't really register that strongly, because it had been so long that it was just nice to have a little relaxation introduced into her system. It was nice to see it in everyone left. In fact, the only one not with a small smile on his face was Rick, sat back in a dusty old dining chair. His brow was furrowed, and, when she watched long enough, Rick would sometimes look to the open doorway. He was thinking of Michonne. When that came clear, Eve left him too it and snuggled further into Daryl's side, even though it wasn't chilly.

Then it was just Rick, Daryl and Eve left, and the two agreed to go to bed with a shy mutual glance that held questions. What were the new arrangements, now?

"I'll get my things," Eve said, and stretched her body out as she stood after hours of sitting, leaving the two men to talk. When she returned, Daryl was at the doorway with his arm outstretched for her bag, and the two made it to the clothes store he'd allowed himself the luxury of.

"I'm so tired," Eve giggled coyly, stretching her arms high above her head and yawning. Daryl removed the bag from his arm and rested it against the counter. "That's called drunk," he said, feigning disapproval.

"Nooooo….I'm not drunk…" Then she became dizzy and almost lost her footing, but Daryl straightened her up. Eyeing her through his piercing eyes he murmered, "and the sky's green."

Eve shrugged teasingly, poking her bottom lip out like a child. "To some people it might be."

"To some people you're a lightweight." He guided her to the bed he'd made for himself, which he'd added more clothes to for extra comfort, and she was almost asleep as soon as her head hit the cushion, which was a coat. A few moments later, a blanket was draped over her body, and Daryl lay next to her, putting her between the counter and himself. She smiled contentedly, and kissed his cheek while keeping her eyes closed, simply because she didn't have the energy to open them. With one last sigh, she thought aloud, "We'll get a matress in tomorrow…make it homely….love you…" her voice trailed off into sleep.

…

When Rick opened his eyes, he knew instantly that he was in a dream. He was still in the kitchen, he still felt the warm air brush against his face and neck and hand. Only now he had two hands. Not just a phantom limb. His real hand. There, flexing muscles and joints and bones and flesh. He watched in awe as he moved it in his lap, felt his fist tighten and his fingers stretch in a repeated cycle.

"Rick," a voice said, and, before him, in the room, barely feet away, Lori was stood. But not as the ghost he saw her as before. No, this was Lori, before her death. Before even pregnancy. She was there, just as he'd found her in that camp, when he'd been reunited with her and his then such tiny son. He frowned, and wondered why she was there. But when he wondered it, he heard it around himself. He couldn't stand, he could only stare, and move his hand, as Lori stared back at him. With each question he thought of, her stare would change. It would change without ever really changing. But something in her eyes answered it for him, like the realisation would come easy.

Why are you here?

_To remind you._

Remind me of what?

_That you can love someone in this world. It keeps you going. Keeps you focused._

How is that even remotely true?

_You know._

I let you down.

_No, I let us down. I wasn't built for this world, and I didn't want to be part of it. Now you've found someone who doesn't need protecting, who doesn't embody your guilt._

Words passed around like smoke going nowhere but can be seen and sensed and existed everywhere, filling the room, but taking up no space. Lori stared back at him, her eyes accepting.

_Our son needs a mother, Rick. One who takes care of him, makes him laugh. Protect him no matter what. A boy needs that._

Rick thought. But only for a moment.

You don't mean just him, do you?

_No, _her voice drifted sadly. _She has allowed you to forget me. To let go of your guilt over me. You needed that._

I've not forgotten you, Rick's voice argued. I remember every day.

_You remember what you had to do, what you tried to keep me safe. I've not been to you what she is to you now for a long time, Rick. Longer than you know._

So why am I realising this now?

_Because she is out there, searching for you. And you are frightened beyond words._

Rick thought about asking whether she was safe, until realising that this was a dream, and Lori wasn't real. She was just a figure who represented his guilt, presented to him to cause more guilt, and pain. She followed his train of thought with a slight change in her eyes, a look of sadness of his desperation.

_She is a warrior, Rick. You don't doubt that for a second._

He did know that. He'd always known it, and that's what made her such a good companion…better for him. Better to survive with. She kept him motivated, she kept him positive. She kept him hoping.

And that was something Lori struggled to do. She was a beacon, reminding him of what was, what had gone wrong. How it changed things for the worse. Then there was Michonne. She, like Daryl and Eve and, now, Carol, was built for this world. In her he saw strength, protection, fierce, fierce devotion to those she cared for.

That's why she was out there now, instead of there. With him.

He realised that he'd looked away from the ghost before him, and her cheeks glistened with tears. She followed it all, his thoughts, his realisations, and then he remembered, this was a dream. How did you let go of a ghost in a dream?

_Confront it, _she said in a wisp of a voice. _You know im not really here._

So how do I make it feel real? Confronting you?

Instead of saying another word, she moved, for the first time, and leaned down in front of him, laying a hand on his clavicle. _Rick. Wake up._

Only it wasn't her voice. It was more familiar than her voice. More solid.

"Rick. Wake up."

Rick's eyes snapped open, and he hoped to find Michonne in Lori's place. But it wasn't. It was Sasha. He stared at her for a long time, dazed and a little confused. Then relief filled him that the dream was finally over. "Where am i?"

"You're still in the kitchen. Its 4 30."

Rick frowned and looked about himself, and Sasha straightened up, putting her hands on her hips. "You need to rest. You cant do that here."

"I was fine. What're you doing up?" He began forcing himself from the chair and his joints clicked and ached with lack of movement. The woman motioned to the door leading to the main part of the building. "Bob. He's…he's got a fever." That was then the mist of tiredness cleared, and her cheeks were shining. "I'm sure he's fine but…Well, I just thought…"

Rick nodded slowly, catching on to what she was getting at. "Yeah…has he been out on a run in the last few hours?"

"We went into a town we found a few miles out, they got a food bank…he ... seemed fine."

"Did you lose sight of him at all?"

She shook her head cautiously. "Not once." That answer held no less dread of conviction. Rick remembered the prison, the infection that halved their number, and weakened even more. Sasha, of course, knew all too well how that infection felt, and, given her and Bob's situation, that was the least desirable answer to his condition. But Rick was weary. Would they survive if another person got infection?

Would he? He still had one major open wound and several scratches that could easily let anything in. He wasn't exactly being careful, but going near Bob for him would be pure idiocy.

"Take me to him," he said darkly, and he followed her smaller figure as she lead him to their safe.

The small room was dimly lit, a small gaslight at the head of their mattress. The flame glistened in Bob's shining head and face. The groans escaping from him were small and weak and infrequent, restrained. His face was solidified struggle. His eyes connected with Rick's, and then Sasha's, as though he'd not realised they were there before. His mouth broke into a grimace, probably meant to be a smile. "Think I got a…a touch of fever…" A sound came out that Rick had heard many times before, when a teenager or a father or mother knew there condition was worsening, and they put on a brave face. Either in the road after a hit and run, a shoot out, or later in a hospital bed. In front of the police or before their family's grief stricken faces. "It'll be fine, out of here in no time," that laugh said. That meant it wouldn't be fine, almost 100% of the time.

Sasha neared his side and croached next to him, taking his hand. She said nothing, not knowing what to say, and simply stared into his eyes and over his struggling frame like he was already gone.

"I…I got something…I should've said it…before…"

Rick turned his back to give them a private moment, and after a few moments of silence, he heard a gasp. "Wh-…Bob…When…?"

"At the food bank," he said, and Rick peered over his shoulder. The scene had become tragic. There she was, staring down and covering her mouth with her hands as she gazed down on Bob's shoulder, red and raw and chewed on like raw meat. He let the shirt collar go and it recovered the wound. "But I was…I was with you the whole time." They were holding hands again, one hand still covering her mouth. Bob shook his head. "The basement…when I was dragged under."

A hand flew to Rick's face and smoothed over his stubbly cheek in thought and fear. He took a few cautious steps to the couple, utterly heartbroken, and crouched beside Sasha. "Can I get you anything?"

His friend looked long at him, and Rick was confused by the emotion in his eyes. It rebelled against the flexing and tensed muscles in his face, neck, hands, the occasional grind of his teeth, the sweat on his brow. His eyes were, on the other hand, at peace. Not happy, just, peaceful. Accepting. He shook his head, saying, "No…thanks." His other hand, his free hand, stretched out, shaking as he held it in place. Rick took it and held it tightly. "You were lucky…God…he ain't done with you, yet."

Rick soon left them to it, noticing the blade that was permanently at Sasha's belt, and slowly found his way to his room, shared with his two children, down the hall. He wondered on his way whether Sasha would have the strength, when the time came. It seemed fairly close. Then he looked to his son. He wondered how she'd come out of it, whether she'd be the same. Then he looked to his son.

He wondered if she'd survive the incident, the death of someone she loved so much and had so little time with. Then he looked to his son.

Yes, she'd have the strength. Because Carl did. But she'd not be the same. She'd not have the hope or the positivity or the sense of naïve untainedness. Because Carl didn't. She'd survive though, he speculated, sitting on the futon between Carl's own and Judith's crib. Of course she would.


End file.
